The Mannis with a Plannis
by Digsjin
Summary: An American chemist is reincarnated into the body of Stannis Baratheon, he explores the new world he finds himself in learning about the 'Higher Mysteries' that his education on earth didn't cover in order to better take advantage of his meta-knowledge and sit on the most uncomfortable chair in Westeros. Stannis SI! Reincarnation.
1. Prologue

**Steffon I**

'_The screams are the worst thing'_, Steffon mused as one of the aforementioned screams assailed his ears and reverberated through the halls of Storm's End. He was a veteran of the War of the Ninepenny Kings and had been on more battlefields than most other men could realistically claim, but hearing his wife screaming and not being able to help was enough to drive him mad. "_Damn tradition and the Dragons it rode on to all seven hells_", he thought, he'd be fine if he could be in there with his wife. He knew he couldn't actually help her, but holding her hand and seeing how she was doing would've been enough for him, but it was not to be, traditionally men couldn't see their wives giving birth and he had to content himself by seeing the midwives run back and forth, back and forth, carrying various buckets of water, some full, others empty, and sometimes cloth that would later be stained with blood and sweat, a sight that made him internally grimace.

It was bad enough when his first-born Robert had been born, but now it sounded even more like Cassana was trying to excise a demon from her womb. It was not only the screams that gave way to such an atmosphere, for one the weather certainly didn't help as his lands were currently playing host to one of the famous storms they were named after, the rain pelting the walls and the rolling of thunder that was occasionally heard aided and abetted in helping to amplify his wife's screams of sheer anguish, he silently sent a prayer to the mother and father thanking them for having been born a man, he doubted he could stomach pain like that, let alone the life that women were expected to lead…

His thoughts were barely enough to keep him distracted from his very real worry that something might go wrong, but they managed to keep him busy enough, since the birthing went on for hours yet, though he had lost track of time by the time that Cressen had walked up to him. He hadn't noticed his approach, and was thus very startled when Cressen had said something that broke him out of his reverie, but it wouldn't do for a Lord to be scared of his Maester so he regained his composure and silently gestured for Cressen to repeat himself, which he did with a soft smile, "Your wife has given birth to a healthy boy my lord and she has requested your presence."

Steffon smiled gratefully and made his way to the chamber in which his wife gave birth, seeing midwives running to and fro now carrying only empty buckets of water, some of their white robes were stained with blood, the thought that it was his wife's made him cringe visibly for a moment, but he ruthlessly suppressed it.

"Steffon…", his beautiful wife said out of breath, her long dark hair was slicked with sweat, which made loose strands of it stick to her face, but Steffon had no eyes for that, more important was the small child she was clutching to her chest, Steffon smiled at her and gestured to pick him up, his wife acquiesced and he preened at the newborn for a moment, "Hello little one.", he said in what he thought was a sweet parental voice and he liked to think his son would hear and understand him, but in truth he was fast asleep.

"What shall we name him?", his wife asked out loud, though Steffon could sense that she already had an idea, one was able to pick up on such things after being married for so long after all, so he'd said, "I already chose for Robert, why don't you pick this time?", his wife smiled at him gratefully and thought for a moment, "How about Stannis?", '_a strong name'_, Steffon approved and said as much, though he would've wanted to name him Lyonel after his grandfather his wife's uncle was an honorable man himself and Stannis Baratheon had a nice ring to it.

He sat down on the bed next to his wife, both of them were holding their child, just basking in each other's presence for a moment, not saying a word and simply enjoying the moment. The blissful silence was interrupted by a shrill noise that Steffon couldn't quite make out, it definitely wasn't the storm of that much he was entirely sure, he placed his son in his wife's lap, both of them were sleeping peacefully and he took a moment to commit the sight into his memory, such moments were hard to come by nowadays, especially with Aerys having ascended the throne and requesting his presence in King's Landing so often.

He opened the shutters of the window a small amount of rain pelting his face from the storm, though the small discomfort was nothing compared to what he witnessed as he overlooked the Godswood of Storm's End. He was a believer in the seven and thus had not made much time to visit the Godswood of his ancestral home, even so he knew with a certainty that no man had ever seen what he was seeing right now, there were black Ravens gathered on each of the gnarled Weirwood's branches and all of them were cawing in unison, it took a while for Steffon to make out the words they were saying over the sound of the rain pelting the castle walls, but once he'd heard it, he couldn't unhear it.

"_Prince, Prince, Prince_", the Ravens were cawing, the round shape of the Godswood allowing their voices to carry by echoing of the walls much further than would ordinarily be possible. He briefly stopped to wonder what this omen boded for his son's future. He had never placed much stock in such things, but this was a pretty clear message that the Gods, be they old or new wanted to say something, though what that something was Steffon couldn't say for certain.

**Cressen I**

The old Maester smiled at the thought of his student, his favorite student if he was honest, Stannis had a capacity to learn which boggled the mind. The lad had taken to his numbers and letters like a fish to water and had begun to read every single book he could get his hands on with the enthusiasm that outshone that of most Acolytes in the Citadel. He had said as much to Stannis, and while he did indeed have some interest in forging a chain, he'd said that a Maester's life wasn't truly for him.

He had never explicitly said what he dreamed of being, Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands were titles reserved for Robert, despite the fact that his younger brother was at least a thousand times more responsible from one what could see so far, but through Stannis' tastes in literature Cressen could at least gleam some of the dreams he had for the future. While Stannis read almost everything, he could possibly get his hands on, he particularly favored the memoirs of Colrys Velaryon and Lomas Longstrider, often re-reading them and being able to quote large passages from memory, leading the old man to believe that his charge wanted to be a great explorer.

That was practically the only subject of contention between the two, Cressen vigorously argued that with Stannis' obvious intelligence and inquisitive nature, that he should receive an education in the Citadel, but Stannis eventually got fed up with repeating the drawbacks of wearing the chain and wouldn't hear more about it.

Another intriguing if inconsequential difference between the two Baratheon brothers was their attitude towards birds, Robert loved hawking while Stannis found the activity mind-numbingly dull, instead he enjoyed tending to Ravens, a fondness which pleasantly reminded Cressen of his own sponsor at the citadel and the lad thus often volunteered to help feed and water them in exchange for extra lessons on the higher mysteries, Cressen being one of the few Maesters who had studied them and managed to forge a link of Valyrian Steel that indicated as much, though he gained little practical use from the knowledge and had said as much to Stannis, his charge was still as inquisitive and undeterred as ever and wouldn't be shaken from the boyish dream of learning magic, the thought making Cressen smile fondly as he had a similar attitude when he first joined the Citadel.

"_Nevermore, Nevermore, Nevermore_", the cawing of Stannis' pet raven broke him out of his reverie, the bird was usually very quiet and was by now a fixture on Stannis' left shoulder, but could be very annoying at times especially because Stannis had taught him to say almost exclusively that word, though he'd never explained why. "Cressen, could I ask a favor?", Stannis asked with his usual curt politeness that never quite managed to set others at ease, Cressen raised an eyebrow and genially answered, "Of course, do you wish to borrow another book?", Stannis shook his head and now Cressen was curious. Stannis almost exclusively asked him for more books or failing that, extra lessons on a subject he was interested in, usually history, navigation or the higher-mysteries, but for him to ask a favor that had nothing to do with learning something new was almost unheard of for him.

"I was wondering if you could help me send a Raven.", Stannis said his countenance as impassive as it usually was. "To whom?", Cressen was forced to ask. He'd be happy to do most any favor for Stannis, but any Ravens which left Storm's End could have dire political implications on the family, not necessarily because of the content, but just by where it was going would lead to much speculation among most nobles, especially since both Stannis and Robert were not yet betrothed…

"Castle Black", Stannis said simply. Cressen blinked away his astonishment, and almost breathlessly said, "You mean to join the Watch?!". Stannis' first instinct was something the Maester would've never expected from him, for his charge threw back his head and roared with laughter. After a few moments he calmed himself and wiped away the tears which had gathered in his eyes, "No, no", he began almost out of breath from the fit of laughter, "I've no intention of freezing my balls off at the wall.", Cressen glared at him for the language, but it lacked any real heat, "I just wanted to start a correspondence with the Maester there."

Cressen had not felt this curious about anything since he was an Acolyte and asked the question that he simply couldn't find the answer to in his own mind, "Why?". Stannis just looked at him like a father would look at a particularly dull-witted child who had just asked a very stupid question, "Why would I want to speak with my great-great uncle Aemon, possibly the oldest man in Westeros, friend to Ser Duncan the Tall and Brynden Rivers?", Stannis began, the sarcasm almost dripping from his voice, "I don't know, fun mayhaps?". Now Cressen glared at him for real, but he acquiesced to perform his request anyway and thus asked the most prudent question, "What do you wish to ask him?".

Stannis nodded curtly, a favorite gesture of his that usually indicated approval at someone getting to the point and said, "I was wondering if he had some insight, he might be willing to share into how Bloodraven ran his spy network."

"Do you wish to become the new Master of Whispers?", Cressen found himself asking, though his tone was more joking than incredulous when the conversation had initially began, "Hardly", Stannis snorted contemptuously, "but it is a matter of large historical importance and all of the books I've read are either woefully vague on the subject or are simply conjecture from overeager Maesters born years after Bloodraven became Lord Commander."

Cressen sighed, "Very well, I'll help you, just fetch a quill and some parchment from the table over there.", he said pointing to the aforementioned table. Stannis smiled gratefully and went to do as he was told.

**Robert I**

Robert Baratheon was the furthest thing from a patient man and had a temper that could put most wild beasts to shame, currently he was attempting to squash the mounting urge to drop his blunted training sword and attempt to squash his younger brother's head like a grape, the main reasons why he didn't were because his father would hang him if Cressen didn't poison him first.

His anger was exacerbated by the fact that he'd eaten a bad lobster and was down with the shits during what would've been his first squire's tourney, a tourney that his _younger_ brother, won handily, the thought made him outwardly frown and Stannis took advantage of the lapse in concentration to whack him across the shoulder, Robert let loose a grunt of rage and tried to club his brother over the head with his sword, but his brother merely got on his knee and rolled behind him, giving him a spank with the flat edge of his blade while laughing all-the-while.

The disparity in their respective skills as warriors wasn't so great between the two, but between their skills as swordsmen it was very clear that Stannis was much, much better. Robert was stronger by a wide margin and thus preferred using decisive bludgeoning weapons like the Warhammer his father bought him for his nameday, but for all of Robert's strength, speed and reach, Stannis on the other hand was faster, decisive and had the reflexes of a shadow-cat, making him an extremely able blade for his age. The fight would've been more even with their respective weapons of choice, but it was required of a knight to learn the sword, so Robert was doing just that.

It was not only their respective inborn talents that made a difference, both of them trained quite hard and were expected to receive their knighthoods by the time they turned seven and ten at the very latest, though Robert focused his training more on strength building, while Stannis galivanted with that sword-swallower Braavosi by the name of Qarro Volentin he had hired to teach him their peculiar fighting style and training by doing gods know what, though as Robert barely managed to block a strike that would've probably broken his nose, he had to concede that those seemingly pointless exercises of balancing on one leg and chasing cats around seemed to be working for his brother, but they still seemed entirely ridiculous to him.

It wasn't long before he landed on his ass, not because of a decisive strike though, but rather because Stannis had closed the distance between them, forcing Robert to take a step back in order to maximize the effective range of which he could attack, but had at the same time entangled his legs with his, making him stumble as he was unprepared for this, but Stannis had come out of the ordeal just fine.

He tore off his gambeson and rushed at his brother with a snarl of rage, wielding his sword much like how one would use a club, "_It's so unfair_", he thought, "_my little brother is better at everything."_, it wasn't Stannis who knocked him down this time, but rather Ser Harbert Gower, master-at-arms of Storm's End and not by hitting him either, rather he had sharply barked "Robert!", in his loudest most intimidating training-yard voice possible, that would cause grown knights to piss themselves.

He looked up to see Stannis extending a hand to him with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, he scowled and blinked away the tears that were gathering in his eyes, but he took his hand all the same, once he was righted he managed an, "I must be excused", mustering the last of his dignity.

He tried to leave in the direction of his chambers, but a strong steady hand held him in place, _my brother's_, he noticed as the hand spun him back around and Stannis said with a grin, though unlike his usual ones it wasn't mocking in nature, "Don't worry about a single loss brother, if you'd had your hammer you would have beat me bloody.", Robert sighed internally as his rage slowly abated, he should at least try to make an effort to get along with Stannis, it was after-all his last week in Storm's End before he left for the Eyrie.

Renly I

He tossed and turned in his bed, he couldn't help it, sleep just wouldn't take him! He got up, the cold stone floor being slightly uncomfortable on his bare feet, but he made his way to where he knew his brother would be right now. He ran through the halls as quickly as he could without making any noise that would alert his parents as to what he was doing, "_just because they let Stannis be awake throughout the whole night doesn't mean the same for me._", he thought. The pitter-patter of his feat resonated throughout the hallways as he made his way to the library of Storm's End, once he got there, he found the room with its innumerable shelves of books to be shrouded in darkness, save for a small candle which was burning away at the very back of the room. He approached and saw his brother Stannis hunched over a few books and stacks of maps, though they were of locations that Renly didn't recognize.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?", Renly blurted out with all of the vitriol a four-year-old could muster, Stannis blinked his sleep away and flicked his blue eyes over to him, Renly noticed that they had large bags under them.

"Yes, I really should, sleep is good", Stannis said, and the unexpected response threw Renly off long enough for Stannis to add, ", but books are better.", he said the last part with a Cheshire grin that only showed itself with Renly and Cressen.

Renly scowled at the response, but chose not to dwell on it, he was here for a purpose after all, so he waited for his brother to take the bait, "and actually, come to think of it, shouldn't _you_ be sleeping _little_ brother?", Renly misliked the way Stannis always emphasized "little" when he said that, but chose to ignore it once again and opted instead for simply saying, "I can't sleep."

Stannis sighed rubbing his face as if it would magically take his sleepiness away, he finally said with no small amount of exasperation, "Fine, will you go to sleep if I tell you a story?", Renly nodded eagerly, the faux betrayed smile Stannis sent him let him know that he knew what Renly was doing, but was not unduly annoyed by this.

Stannis ruffled his hair and picked him up, placing Renly on his lap, he scowled as much as a child could, but his brother either didn't notice due to the dim light or didn't care, because he almost immediately began to tell his story, "In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit…", even though he didn't know what a Hobbit was, Stannis had Renly's undivided attention.

**A/N**

**Hey guys, please enjoy the first chapter of my new Stannis SI! I deleted the last one because I wasn't satisfied with the first few chapters and I noticed that the story was starting to get away from me during the later ones, but it's still the same basic premise, a chemist reincarnated in Stannis Baratheon, this time during his birth so he has more 'prep-time'. He'll still get exiled and go to Essos, but we'll see more of his preparations while he's in Westeros. I also hope to include more about his relationships with his brothers and other people of importance. Not to mention, for those of you that participated the poll about the pairing is still valid, so look forward to that. See you guys next time, same bat-time, same bat-channel.**

**Sincerely,**

**Digsjin**


	2. Chapter I

**Cressen I**

As the old Maester made his way up the stairs, he realized that Stannis had no reason to have summoned him. He thought of him as the child he never had and while very intelligent and responsible he was also very grim, pedantic, meticulous and utterly inflexible. For him to have called him to his solar out of his normal schedule, indicated some extenuating circumstances indeed, this line of thought was further confirmed upon seeing Ser Harbert Gower, the master-at-arms of Storm's End waiting to me admitted into Stannis' solar.

Both men eventually came upon the door which was now guarded by a Baratheon man-at-arms as well as Stannis' personal sworn-sword, Qarro Volentin, a Braavosi Stannis had hired when he was a child to teach him the way of the sword, but soon became one of Stannis' most loyal and fiercest protectors, a dawning look appeared in his eyes as he knocked on the door and announced their presence.

"Bid them enter", the low growl of Stannis' voice resonated through the hall, both men nodded silently at each other before they made their way into the young Baratheon's solar.

Ser Harbert and himself entered the room, Harbert of course hurrying to where their Lord sat behind his desk, the scratching of a quill on parchment the only sound in the room. He slowly walked after him, noticing that Stannis had not even raised his eyes from what he was doing once, neither to acknowledge their entrance nor when either of them had sat before his desk, without asking if could they sit, a privilege he only afforded Cressen, Qarro and Renly, not _Ser Harbert_.

They sat there, Ser Harbert becoming increasingly annoyed as Stannis worked on the document before him. As a Maester Cressen was accustomed to being ignored momentarily, but it was not a trait Ser Harbert shared. This continued until finally he took the pot of wax from where it sat on a stand above a lighted candle, pouring a small amount of the wax onto the document and impressing the Baratheon Sigil that was embossed unto his ring into the pool of molten wax.

Stannis flicked his gaze over to them and Cressen noticed that he looked even more grim and impassive than usual if that was even possible and Nevermore, the Raven perched upon his shoulder, somehow mimicked his owners' countenance, looking downtrodden and serious overall. Stannis bent down briefly and poured Ser Harbert and Cressen a goblet of wine each, their eyebrows shooting up in surprise at this, "_Stannis never offered nor drank wine._", they both thought. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Cressen could briefly glimpse in his ward's blue eyes that Stannis knew what they were thinking and could feel amusement at their surprise, but he shook his head and drank modestly, interested in what new oddities this day would bring.

Stannis waited for both him and Gower to finish before sipping at their wine before his blue eyes suddenly became hard as flint and equally as merciless flicked to the both of them briefly until he sighed tiredly and said: "I hope your ravens have been well fed and watered Cressen.", as grimly as his countenance as the atmosphere he had managed to create would warrant.

"They are my lord, but why do you ask?", he said judiciously. Stannis rubbed his forehead and his blue eyes blazed with something he hadn't seen in him since his parents died in the shipwreck, _worry__._

"I ask because you will be sending a lot of them, Robert plans to call his banners.", Stannis answered simply.

Both men's faces were shocked at this, but before they could voice their very fair questions and objections Stannis raised a hand to silence them and said: "I don't know this for a fact, but I do know Lords Rickard and Brandon Stark were executed by the mad king and that he will likely demand Ned Stark's head as well…", he trailed off for a moment before continuing, "my drunken oaf of a brother will have been pushed over the edge, I suspect he's on his way right now in fact."

"You mean to call your banners in rebellion against the crown?", Ser Harbert asked affronted and Stannis nodded sharply: "I take my oaths seriously in general, to my King especially, but they pale in comparison to the sacred ties of Family, if Robert intends to fight, then I'll side with him.", he shot back.

"And if you're wrong?", Ser Harbert asked simply, Stannis met his gaze with steely eyed determination and his jaw clenching and unclenching, being the only thing that betrayed his anger, until he said: "I'll do my duty and take responsibility, it would seem those ravens to Castle Black were not a waste of time after all.", the last part was said in jest though it made Cressen grimace and Ser Harbert briefly nod with approval, before sighing as an indication of his acquiescence and finally meeting Stannis' gaze with the same determination that had characterized the gruff old knight throughout his whole career.

"What would you have of us?", Cressen decided to ask straight to the point as Stannis liked it and sure enough Stannis nodded approvingly and said: "Send Ravens to all the houses, except the Conningtons asking them to muster their troops at Storm's End and bring as much food as they can reasonably spare, also tell my uncle Lomas that I'll be sending Renly along to him, he's too young to endure a siege and it'll be the safest place for him barring Winterfell or the Eyrie."

Both men's eyebrows once again shot up, before Ser Harbert incredulously asked the same question Cressen had on his mind: "You expect a siege!?"

Stannis nodded sharply and said: "Robert will likely take most of the forces I gather as soon as he arrives, he'll leave me with little food and a bare bones garrison, something the Tyrells will no doubt take advantage of. They should be at the gates within three weeks, two if Mace Tyrell defers to Randyll Tarly.", he paused before getting up from his chair and pulling out a map of Storm's End, unfolding it he pointed at the surrounding area and said: "Storm's End is easily the third most defensible castle in Westeros, they could march here with the combined might of the Reach and they still wouldn't breach our walls", he now pointed at Shipbreaker's Bay and said, "they'll try to starve us out by using the Redwyne fleet to blockade the keep and their army to stop food from getting to us from our vassals."

"That's where you come in Ser Harbert, I need you to take some men and forage the surrounding area for all the food you can reasonably recover, I don't want to let those bastards have even the scraps", Stannis commanded with steel in his voice, Ser Harbert bowed an exited the room with an impressed look on his face, presumably on his way to completing his task.

"Stannis, why not the Conningtons if I may ask?", Cressen knew better that to question a Lord's decision outright once it had been made, but he was there to offer advice, and with this issue it seemed prudent. Stannis thought on how to phrase his answer for a moment, before he began with: "Are you aware of why House Lannister is currently the strongest house in Westeros?"

The non-sequitur threw Cressen of kilter for a moment, first of all the fact that a Lord had admitted that another house was superior to his was, no matter how true, very surprising in it of itself, but also utilizing the Lannisters, a house Stormlanders normally held little except contempt for, was even stranger. He ignored these self-posed questions and instead opted for trying to answer the initial question Stannis had posed, his mind immediately wandered to the simply absurd amount of gold in the Westerlands, but his musings were interrupted by the song Stannis had begun to hum. He recognized it of course, who in Westeros didn't, '_The Rains of Castamere'_.

"You mean you believe them to be as strong as they are because they wiped out the Rains?!", Cressen asked incredulously. Stannis nodded gravely and began, "Tywin Lannister has the absolute loyalty of every single one of his bannermen, despite the fact that even most of his close family despises him…", he paused here to let that sink in, "This loyalty is not solely born from fear, but rather the fact that House Lannister can't be ousted from power as there is no one in the Westerlands strong enough to do so. Every single House Paramount has a rival that could potentially replace them, the Tullys have the Freys, the Arryns have Grafftons, the Starks the Boltons, the Tyrells the Florents.", he paused to see if he had Cressen's undivided attention, which he did, before he finished, "…and we have the Conningtons, I fully expect them to side with the Crown if a war breaks out, don't get me wrong, I hope they don't, but if they try my patience the Griffons will weep o'er their halls with no one left to hear.", Stannis' expression was severe as he said that last part, so severe that it made Cressen involuntarily shiver as Stannis never made a threat benign or otherwise that he wasn't perfectly willing to carry out.

Cressen rose up from his chair, a determined expression on his face, he bowed and left to accomplish his task, but before he could cross the threshold of the door Stannis interjected: "Oh and Cressen", handing him a list, "see if you can have the castellan procure some of the items on this list, it's not as high a priority as Renly or the food, but they'll be useful", Cressen nodded with a proud smile and left to do his Lord's work, looking over the list briefly he exclaimed: "What in seven hells does he need so many pig bladders for!?"

**Renly I**

"But I want to stay and help!", Renly's voice was laced with all the petulance he could muster, a trait that his older brother could only stomach in him, but Stannis still scrunched his jaw in anger all the same. "Renly, we've been over this, if something happens to me and Robert, you're the future of our house and Uncle Lomas will take good care of you.", Stannis repeated for the nth time. "But I don't want anything to happen to you!", Renly practically shouted as tears began to gather in his eyes, Stannis kneeled to face him at eye-level, a difficult task considering the older Baratheon was over 6ft tall, but he still managed to hug Renly to his chest and comfort him. The Cheshire grin that only showed itself with close friends slowly began to appear on Stannis' features as he said in a faux worried voice, "Gods, I should hope not Renly, I don't want anything to happen to me either.", the unexpectedness of the response was enough to throw both of them into a fit of laughter, or in Renly's case a half laugh, half cry.

They eventually gathered themselves and Stannis gazed at him with all traces of levity vanishing from his features before he said, "Renly, I've got no intention of being Sean Bean.", the private joke they shared stemming from a made-up story Stannis used to tell Renly when they were both younger, he understood the implications well enough, Stannis was saying he has no intentions of dying.

Renly sobered up and nodded, making his way to pack his clothes to board the next ship bound for Tarth, he sent his brother a thankful look, though he still wished he could remain with him to help somehow, his brother gazed at him with a small smile, a rarity on his normally solemn features, before he said, "Oh, and Renly…"

"Yes, Stannis?", he turned back to see what his brother wanted.

"Be good", he said simply. Renly rolled his eyes and made for his chambers.

**Stannis I**

Make no mistake, synthesizing chlorine gas in medieval times was anything but an easy task. You might be wondering, "_What the hell, is this guy going to WW1-Germany the Tyrells?!_", and the answer to that is yes, very much so, yes. I have no intentions of slowly starving to death in Storm's End while simultaneously looking out for people who might betray the castle just to get something to eat. I knew I'd have to grit my teeth, (read: furiously grind), and bear it, until the would-be onion-knight showed up. A little starvation was a relatively minor price to pay for someone you could unequivocally trust in the Game of Thrones, not to mention the fact that an experienced sailor like Davos would be an integral part of my later plans to claim the throne. I was also quite curious to see if he looked anything like Liam Cunningham, the world so far was an eclectic mix of book and show in terms of looks. The Baratheons as in Robert, Renly and myself looked nothing like our respective actors, but Cressen looked eerily like the old man who had played him in the show and Tywin Lannister looked almost exactly like Charles Dance, except he was slightly bulkier and had sideburns that would put a Civil War general to shame.

It was with these inane musings that I returned to my thankless task of synthesizing a 20th century biological weapon with tools that may as well be scraps, it was much easier than expected and thinking about it now I'm surprised that more school shooters and terrorists don't use it. Chlorine or Mustard gas essentially has two components Chlorine (no shit sherlock!) and Ammonia, which for all intents and purposes in medieval times essentially translates to Bleach and Piss, as in I only have to mix those two things together so that a large chunk of the army outside of my gates dies painfully. The difficulty lay in synthesizing the chlorine to make the Bleach, but I was getting on quite well. The items I had asked Cressen to get for me were as eclectic as it gets, mostly animal parts and copper forged into thin strands (wires) and I was sure he was starting to think that I was performing blood magic in the cellar, which in all honesty wasn't too far off, as I was essentially sacrificing pigs and turning them into a magic miasma that'll kill our enemies, the thought made me snort with amusement outwardly.

No, as I said the actual difficulty lied in synthesizing the Bleach. You needed a lot of chlorine for that, but luckily, I was making a lot of headway with my electrolysis. Essentially, I put two nails inside a small glass with sea-water, I run an electrical current through the nails and badda-bing badda-boom, the Salt or NaCl, breaks up into its respective components, and I trap the gas I actually need inside a pig's bladder. The electric current coming from a guerilla style, ancient Egyptian battery which worked with Zink, stomach-acid (pigs were harmed in the making of this battery), and clay as an insulator, now if only I could learn actual alchemy to speed this whole process up…

**Davos I**

After arriving in the hidden cleft of Storm's End he had discovered in his youth and announcing his intentions several times he was quickly ushered into the solar of acting Lord Paramount Stannis Baratheon. He had taken a risk here and he knew it, Stannis was anything but lenient and he despised Pirates more than anyone else. To the point where he had even ordered the small fleets the Stormlands possessed to periodically sweep the Stepstones of their presence, something which hadn't been properly done since the War of the Ninepenny Kings and did not initially make him popular with his vassals, even still Lord Stannis persisted. Though Davos was not exactly a pirate he doubted that any Lord would make the very reasonable distinction between piracy and smuggling and he could only pray to the Seven that the hunger his men were experiencing would be enough to turn a healthy profit, perhaps even enough to retire and spend more time with his wife and children.

Once he crossed the threshold of the door, he noticed the young man who had not even deigned to cast his gaze up to him sitting behind a large wooden desk which looked to him like it was made of some very fine _and expensive_, wood. Lord Stannis, he noticed belatedly, had a way of using his presence to dominate every room he found himself in, much like some experienced captains Davos had worked under in his youth. The posh cunt had not bidden him sit, and he knew better than to offend a Lord's sensibilities by doing so without permission, so he just stood in the middle of the room while fidgeting awkwardly.

After a few moments Lord Stannis put down his quill, presumably having finished writing whatever he was working on, and he finally cast his gaze upon him. If he was fidgeting awkwardly before he lacked the words to describe what he was doing now as the young Baratheon's stare feltlike it pierced his soul, Stannis feigned a cough to gain Davos' attention though he had it before and said: "So what brings a famous smuggler like yourself to come visit us?"

That stopped Davos cold, his mind whirling and tumbling and refusing to come up with any answers, eventually he managed to croak out a weak, "famous…?"

"Oh yes, quite famous indeed", Lord Stannis began his tone almost jovial, though the 'disarming' smile he plastered on his face sent shivers down Davos' spine, "you needn't worry however, you aren't very well known among other Lords, but I take an interest in learning about capable men such as yourself and don't worry I fully intend to pay you a fair price which includes the dangerous task of circumnavigating the Redwyne fleet for each and every onion you've brought." At Davos' uncomfortable countenance and Stannis' disapproving look he merely said: "Pardon me milord, but I half expected to have my right hand chopped off, not the skills I've gained in my trade be praised", Davos commented wryly and to his immense surprise Stannis actually let out a small chuckle at this.

"I do have that reputation, don't I?", Stannis asked rhetorically before shaking his head and continuing while gesturing at the paper he had placed on his desk, "here you are Davos, payment for services rendered and all that."

It pained him to admit this to a respectable customer who would actually pay him no questions asked, "Pardon me milord, but I'm afraid I can't read…", he began before Stannis waved him off and said, "then I'll read it for you, in exchange for providing sufficient food to prevent the starvation of Strom's End's garrison Davos of the newly created House Seaworth will be provided a knighthood and a small keep on the cape wrath peninsula.", Stannis' expression practically exuded equanimity, which was good as Davos was fairly sure that his own face was slack-jawed and stupid.

"Why?", he managed to ask breathlessly, "I'm a good judge of character.", Stannis said simply, the vague reply bewildering Davos even more before Stannis continued, "Fighters and Intriguers I have aplenty, but an experienced sailor who presumably has contacts across the narrow-sea and who has the stones to tell me what he thinks and not what he thinks I want to hear well, let's just say I could use more of those."

**Mace I**

He strutted up to the massive wooden doors of the fortress they were besieging, his attitude cocky as a peacock, along with his party consisting of himself, his cousin Paxter and Lord Matthis Rowan with a detail of guards. Visiting and arguing with the "Stubborn Stag", as his men had dubbed Stannis was not a task he particularly enjoyed doing, but it was the only way to make him see sense and cease this futile resistance. As his party got closer and closer to the wall, he could vaguely make out the sounds of archers on the parapets preparing to lose their arrows, though unlike Lord Rowan he didn't fear for his life, despite being the single most infuriating man he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting the young Baratheon was nothing if not pedantic, so he'd probably have to be driven to lengths beyond even starvation to break a sacred rule of war like the truce.

"Who goes there?", a voice bellowed out, the slight Braavosi accent marking the speaker as Qarro Volentin, Stannis' sworn-sword and a man who had single-handedly killed five experienced knights when they had initially tried to storm the walls.

"Lord Mace Tyrell, here to discuss terms with Lord Stannis.", he said simply and this time avoided saying something along the lines of '_you should damn well know who by now, you essosi barbarian_', tongue and cheek answers like that which were more reminiscent of his mother than himself would only get him snubbed by the Baratheon as he'd learned the hard-way. "A moment please.", the voice returned from the other side of the door, and a few moments later a latch clicked open to reveal the hateful blue-eyed glare of the young Baratheon quickly scanning over the lords he'd brought with him, before landing on him, '_does he have no other way to look at one apart from skull-fucking one with his eyes?_', Mace wondered idly.

"Lord Tyrell, a _pleasure_ to see you again, is there anything I can do for you?", Stannis drawled impassively though the sarcasm when he'd said pleasure came through loud and clear. Mace stifled a chuckle, but he couldn't help smiling ruefully. The Stag could be as stubborn as a mule and his tongue was sharper than most, though he was inured to this through a lifetime of criticism by his mother and thus Stannis' lackluster insults had little to no effect on him.

"You know what I'm here for…", he began, before Stannis interjected with, "yes, yes, open the gates, surrender unconditionally, there's no way your brother can win, you'll be treated fairly…", he drawled his voice hard set and unemotional, "no need to repeat the same conversation we've already had fifty times, but as it happens I have something new to say this time."

Between the two Lords Stannis was the master of using his glare to intimidate people, so Mace never even bothered, and instead simply raised a bemused eyebrow and asked, "Oh, and what would that be?"

"A warning", Stannis began in a tone one would use if one wanted to announce they needed to make water, "if you don't march your fat-ass out of the Stormlands _yesterday_, a lot of your men are going to die very painfully. Though for my part, it would be most welcome if you stayed so I may extract due price for your enmity."

Mace barely managed to avoid laughing at the absurdity of the jape, though his cousin and Lord Rowan lacked the same self-control, and they nearly fell off their mounts laughing at the desperate bluff the Stag had seen fit to use, Mace smiled at him, the fact that he was resorting to such pointless tactics only proved his desperation and said, "Tighten your belt then my lord, and we shall see whose men will die.", then promptly signaled for his party to return to camp, he'd really wished he'd stayed in Highgarden and allowed Tarly to deal with all of this shit, but being a Lord Paramount meant pretending to be a capable commander and thus waste his time doing shit like this.

If he'd stayed, he might have further pondered the look Stannis had given him. It was not one of hate for laughing at his 'bluff', nor one of his typical impassive looks that gave absolutely nothing away, it was something Mace had never seen on the Baratheon's face before, a smile, a small and fleeting one, but a smile, nonetheless. Not one of warmth that a mother might share with her child, but rather one of a hunter who had just found out how to kill his prey and was letting it know.

The reason for that look become clear soon enough as he was violently woken from his night's sleep by the alarm that indicated that their camp was being attacked by projectiles, he'd thought they had set up their tents just out of range from Storm's End's catapults, but apparently they were chucking what looked like large stones over to them, he panicked but only slightly, after all, they could just move their tents back and nothing else would come of it. But once the projectiles landed, Mace realized that they weren't stones at all, but rather barrels that contained what smelled to him like rancid piss.

It soon dawned on everyone that the Stag didn't do this as some sort of twisted prank or desperate gambit as a yellowish miasma began to rise from the puddles of liquid that had exploded out of the barrels. Mace had seen several battles in his day, though none as large as this one he'd admit, but the sight of his men running and screaming, emerging with burnt caustic skin reminiscent of what he'd imagined people with greyscale looked like scared him to his core, '_Stannis had told the truth_', his mind seemed to say to him on repeat, the screams of his men aiding and abetting the exacerbation of his fear, "Retreat!", he bellowed in his most commanding voice, it was not an organized retreat, there was no time for that with the amount of fear both the men and the commanders were experiencing, as the panic began to set in seasoned soldiers turned into callow milksops and ran for their lives, the only commanders who could have possibly brought order to this mess were Paxter Redwyne who was with his fleet and Randyll Tarly, who was caught in the middle of the Baratheon's spell.

It would forever be remembered as the day Stannis Baratheon made the whole of the Reach scurry away like a scared group of rabbits.

**A/N**

**Hey guys, as always hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you did please drop a review, that warm feeling you guys get whenever a story updates is the same feeling most writers get whenever we see a new review, so please take some time to do it. At any rate, I know I rushed Davos' stuff but honestly, I didn't want to spend too much time on him seeing as how everyone can guess how it turned out. So, addressing some of your concerns in the order I found them in:**

**A Hobbit is a race from J.R.R Tolkien's "The Hobbit" and "Lord of the Rings", they're basically dwarves who farm instead of mine, have hairy feet and are generally very nice, but not very adventurous. Their mention in the story is an 'Easter Egg' which indicates that Stannis has basically been telling Renly stories from our world, including the work of Mr. Tolkien.**

**Yeah, I just can't see a way for a pairing with Dany to fit into the story logically without some major leaps from what would be essential for the SI to do to stop the Ice Zombies.**

**Yeah, even in this story Robert is much more popular than Stannis wo there's no way he could successfully lead a counter-rebellion against his older brother.**

**Stannis is not the older brother, it goes Robert, Stannis, Renly.**

**Yeah, I made Renly a little older than in Cannon because I wanted him and Stannis to interact a little more before he leaves.**

**Arianne Martell won the poll results and to my immense delight Sansa Stark lost by a wide margin, while a pairing with her would've made a lot of sense in the story and I could have written her fairly well I always disliked her chapters in the books.**


	3. Chapter II

**Qarro I**

"King's Landing", his Lord snorted with contempt as he faced all of his men, even from here the stench of that accursed city violently assailed his nostrils, not since Volantis had he smelled something so wretched, but he was cut off from his musings when Stannis continued speaking, "it is a city where kings reside and all of Westeros is ruled…", most men, including Ser Davos, the new knight Stannis had taken into his confidence furrowed their brows in thought at the fact that their lord was stating the obvious, "it is the site of the Red Keep and probably the most beautiful view over the Narrow Sea you'll ever have, but don't let that fool you. The stench is much more honest than the view as you'll never find a bigger hive of scum and villainy this side of the aforementioned Sea. The Palace where we'll be staying is filled to the brim with connivers, who would sell their own mothers if they thought it would somehow bring them an advantage with someone higher up than them."

At this most of the men nodded seriously, most were Baratheon men-at-arms who had served during the War of the Ninepenny Kings and were thus no strangers to the politics that these Westerosi lords had to deal with. Qarro had chosen them because they were utterly loyal to Stannis, even more so than Robert, a quality his lord had specifically asked for in order to successfully complete the tasks ahead, "thus I fully expect for someone to approach each and every one of you with a bribe in order to spy on me.", most men looked quite incensed at that and Stannis' pet Raven repeated the word, "_Spy, Spy, Spy_", over and over again until Stannis silenced it with a glare. Their anger was not born because of the fact that someone would attempt it, but rather because Stannis was seemingly saying this because he thought they would be stupid enough to accept. Their expressions quickly turned to confusion when Stannis then said, "and I fully expect to see each and every one of you accept the bribes,", but then changed to the raucous laughter Qarro was used to seeing in these Stormlanders when Stannis finished, "you may keep the money, but you will all report to me and feed them the information that I want them to know."

They then made their way to the Red Keep, in a similar manner to the city of his birth the further they went away from the poorer district of Flee Bottom the less the smell of shit bothered him, though he couldn't help but grin with anticipation at the tasks Stannis was sure to give him, he had explained to his inner circle that his brother Robert would likely make him Master of Ships and have him take the last Targaryen stronghold in Westeros, though he would also be made the interim Hand of the King as Jon Arryn had departed to pacify the dornish and would use this newfound power ruthlessly to try and stamp out some of the corruption that had become endemic under Aerys' reign of terror.

When they were finally settled in to what would be their quarters for approximately the next year Stannis soon summoned both Qarro and Ser Davos to his new Solar in the tower of the hand, they made it past the Baratheon men-at-arms who were drilling in the courtyard and the two who were guarding the door. The sight that they walked in on was a familiar one that set Qarro at ease, Stannis scribbling furiously on the endless paperwork which seemed to plague Westerosi lords at every turn with 'Nevermore' perched upon his shoulder occasionally demanding to be fed corn, though in the presence of strangers Stannis would invariably refuse the request.

"Have a seat", Stannis said as his tired, yet somehow observant eyes flickered over to the both of them. They did as commanded and sat down behind the desk that Stannis had claimed as his own, "I have a couple of tasks for the both of you.", he began in a tone that brooked no argument but was somehow indifferent to the consequences of what it would bring at the same time, "Ser Davos, you are familiar with the criminal underbelly of Flee Bottom are you not?".

The newly dubbed Onion-Knight had long since moved on from trying and failing to disassociate himself from his criminal past with Stannis and instead settled for answering the question quickly and concisely the way Stannis liked it, "Yes milord, do you require the services of anyone I might know?"

Stannis shook his head to indicate the negative, "No, I need you to find a man who goes by the name of Clubfooted Karl and I need you Qarro-", his back straightened at the mention of his name and Stannis' shift of attention over to him, "- to bring me his head.", he finished in a tone that apart from the words could be construed as him discussing the weather. Ser Davos blinked owlishly at this, but most of the men Stannis trusted had complete faith in him after breaking the siege of Storm's End with what he had vehemently denied was magic, but Davos and Qarro knew better, they also knew better than to press the issue but that was neither here nor there.

"Also Davos", he continued, "I need you to get the fleets up to snuff, I know you have more experience running away from ships than fighting them, but I need a structured chain of command in place if I'm going to take Dragonstone, oh and if anyone refuses to recognize your authority you have my permission to have them flogged, but only after you've told them I sent you.", Davos nodded seriously and he stared as if expecting Stannis to give him even more work, Lord Stannis obviously noticed this and with a quick upturn of the lips said, "You're excused.", Ser Davos' face reddened only slightly before, he bowed and muttered a hasty 'thank you milord' before departing to do his work.

"And probably the most important task I have is for you.", Stannis said his cold blue-eyes boring into his own dull brown ones mercilessly, his Raven somehow mimicking his expression, "Are you aware of the history of the Red Keep?"

"I'm afraid not Stannis", he said truthfully, he was barley aware of the history of his own city, let alone a distant castle that ha nothing to do with him in his youth, Stannis snorted though not in contempt, but in amusement and said: "Well, I'd consider myself something of an expert on this subject, but suffice it to say the innermost part of it was built by a paranoid madman who filled it to the brim with secret tunnels.", his mind froze momentarily at this calculating every scenario in which Stannis could be placed at-risk through an assassin making his way through the tunnels, Stannis apparently noticed this as his expression became even more grave, "I need you to take what you deem to be an appropriate number of men and map those tunnels, especially the ones that lead into my chambers and the black cells.", Qarro found the reasoning for the latter one quite odd, and to his mind non-existent, but he knew better that to question Stannis when he said something so important and instead settled for nodding sharply, he was already thinking of the appropriate men who would be useful in this endeavor, both the mapping of the tunnels and the death of the man Stannis wanted killed.

**Tobho I**

He smiled fondly as the masons finished repairing his shop, the siege hadn't completely destroyed his business like it had for some of his contemporaries, the thought that these lackluster sunset smiths were considered his equals here made him internally grimace, but he moved passed it in favor of thinking about the fact that his business would soon begin to boom as he was one of the few master blacksmiths whose forge was still completely functional in the street of steel.

So absorbed was he in his thoughts that he hardly noticed the hoofbeats of the horses that were approaching him and only turned to see when the sound indicating that they were dangerously close to trampling him, thankfully they stopped abruptly, but when Tobho noticed the livery the men sported his thoughts mirrored the riders as they too stopped abruptly. The men that had approached were coated in Baratheon colors; men the new King's brother Lord Stannis had brought with him from the Stormlands to supplement the diminished ranks of the Goldcloaks. They were much less corrupt than the men they had replaced, but that only meant whenever they caught someone doing something illegal, their punishments were much more…_severe_. This coupled with the fact that the sack of the city was still fresh in people's minds meant that no-one wanted to attract their attention, attention which more often than not led to ire.

"Are you the master smith Tobho Mott of Qohor?", one of the men-at-arms asked as rudely as Tobho had come to expect from the Sunset Landers.

"Yes, ser, I am he, do you wish a new sword or perhaps armor to be forged?", Tobho figured approaching the men as he would with any other customer wouldn't draw any unnecessary attention to himself, in saying this the man who had initially spoken shook his head and continued, "While a new sword wouldn't be amiss, I'm afraid it is not us who require your services."

Tobho felt the knot that had formed in his stomach when the men had approached tighten, "Then who…?" he began, but was once again rudely interrupted, though this time by the second man, when he answered the question, "Stannis Baratheon, the Master of Ships.", '_Fuck_' was the only thought that passed through his mind at that moment, if one wanted to avoid attention from his guards, then avoiding the attention of the Warlock of Storm's End seemed even more prudent, the man who had routed an entire army and left Randyll Tarly, the only man who had ever defeated the Demon of the Trident in battle hideously disfigured.

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as he was led up the winding streets of King's Landing towards the Red Keep and the solar of the Master of Ships. The trip was a fairly short one if not slightly awkward since the men who were escorted seemingly also had no idea why he was being summoned and were presumably peeved that their lord had not shared the information with them.

When he finally arrived at the Crown Prince's solar he was greeted by an aroma he remembered fondly from his youth, wake-bean tea, a tea made from expensive beans imported from the summer isles and while extremely bitter it would re-energize one for the labors of the day, but he was nonetheless still very surprised to see a Westerosi drinking it. After taking a sip Lord Stannis placed his finely decorated goblet down on his desk and smiled disarmingly, though Tobho knew better than to let his guard down around the man, and said, "Ah, Master Mott, a pleasure to meet you, please have a seat.", Tobho thanked him and hurried to the front of the man's desk to as he was bade, though he inadvertently fidgeted with his fingers and glanced around the room nervously.

"Master Mott I've summoned you here because-", at these words Tobho's heart rate reached a crescendo, if he was going to be punished for whatever reason, said punishment would come now, "- word around the street is that you're the finest smith in the street of steel.", relief flashed across his features quickly followed by a look of pride, in this case he did feel it was warranted.

"I'm honored by the praise my lord…", he began, but Lord Stannis quickly waved him off and said, "Yes, yes, but it's not just praise we both know it's just the simple truth, and that's why I have a task that I believe you'll be uniquely suited for."

"My Lord?", he asked curious about the task, "Do you wish a suit of plate armor forged, or perhaps the same for your destrier?", Stannis smiled, this time it was not disarming, but slightly amused, "Nothing so simple", he said his infamous serious tone now marred with hints of jovialness as he hefted a large sack filled with what looked like completely random objects from behind his desk and poured the contents out in front of him.

Cups, plates, crowns and a few daggers cluttered the table, but Tobho had no eyes for what they were, but rather what they were made of "_Valyrian Steel_", he whispered breathlessly and Lord Stannis nodded seriously though the out-of-place smile never left his face and began saying, "The Targaryens left a veritable treasure trove of the stuff scattered around the Red Keep, though this is all my men have been able to scrounge up so far…", he paused here to let that sink in and Tobho asked what felt like the most prudent question while running his hands around the items to check if the steel was the real thing, "Am I correct in assuming you want this to be re-forged into a blade my lord?"

Stannis' smile somehow grew much wider as he handed Tobho a diagram of the blade he wanted forged, it was a hand and a half sword, with a silver pommel being the head of a stag with the eyes made of blue sapphires, the cross-guard being the beast's horns and the hilt having an inscription carved onto it, "Pardon me my lord, but I'm afraid I can't read this here", Tobho said indicating the aforementioned inscription.

"No problem", Stannis began, "it reads Īlvon Vēdros in High Valyrian.", Tobho smiled hearing what could've passed for his mother tongue in many years as it was a welcome surprise, even more so that a sunset lander would choose to have his House Words engraved on his blade in High Valyrian, he was imagining the challenge that would come with making the blade. Forging Valyrian steel was no easy task and the cross-guard was one of the most intricate ones he'd ever seen…

"Can you do it?", Stannis said breaking him out of his musings, his expression that of a child hoping that his parent would give him a toy he's been eyeing in the shop for weeks, Tobho tried to hide his excitement at the task, but he still practically fell over himself accepting.

**Varys I**

He walked into the throne room which was now devoid of the large Dragon skulls that had once characterized it and was now a vast echoing chamber with mismatched colors as the sun hadn't bleached the spots where the skulls once stood. He was unsurprised to see the King's brother there, _Stannis_, he spat with venom within the safety of his own mind. His spies had reported that he was an unusually clever child, curious about the world beyond Westeros and an excellent swordsman, but that was mostly due to the tutelage of his sworn-sword, who was apparently one of the candidates to become the first sword of Braavos. Regardless, nothing about his background would suggest that he would be willing and perhaps more importantly capable of using sorcery, magic always came with a price and for whatever it was that Stannis did at Storm's End it was surely a very steep one.

He shook his head in order to clear away that pointless meandering tangent. He had initially thought that despite his apparent ability to use magic that the man would only be a cantankerous soldier too interested in deferring to his brother and Jon Arryn, but that assessment was proven false almost immediately. Not only had the man brought in around 300 Baratheon men-at-arms who were entirely loyal to him, but he had used his authority as the interim hand to replace every single person he was capable of replacing, meaning almost every single functionary in King's Landing was nominally loyal to him, from the Goldcloaks to the Gaolers, and wasn't that a scary thought Varys mused, a sorcerer with what was essentially an army at his back. There was little he could do about it now, he had of course set plans in motion to undermine the young Baratheon's influence, but his little birds were incapable of spying on him as he had sealed all of the tunnels leading to the tower of the Master of Ships. For now, the most important thing was understanding the man's motivations to see if he would need to get rid of him permanently or if he could somehow leverage him for his plans.

The conversation opener was one he used several times before, but considering the room they were both in and what Stannis was looking at it seemed even more appropriate: "A thousand blades…", he began and Stannis turned to look at him, surprised that he was no longer the only occupant of the room, but he quickly masked the surprise in favor of the impassivity that he usually portrayed.

"There aren't a thousand blades.", Stannis said matter-of-factly, "there aren't even six-hundred, I've counted.", '_clearly I've also underestimated his patience._', Varys mused dryly.

"I'm sure you have", he began feigning joviality, then abruptly switched his line of questioning to something that may provoke a reaction from the stone-faced lord, "Tell me, when you imagine yourself up there, how do you look, does your older brother grovel at your feet, does a beautiful queen sit at your side?"

The small widening of the eyes was the only indication that Stannis had even heard him, though for all intents and purposes the man was indifferent to what he had said, "_It doesn't look like a very comfortable chair you know?_", he said quietly more to himself than to Varys, "I couldn't say, I'm afraid I've never been quite sure about what I want at all.", this time he turned to him with an infuriating grin that seemed utterly alien on his features and walked away as if amused by a private joke only he could understand. Varys smiled genially but was internally racing to unpack the meaning of what Stannis had just said and honestly, he was left just as bewildered as he was before.

**Hallyne I**

He frowned internally as his student, he supposed, handed him the mixture he was working on and said frown quickly became external when he noticed the fact that there were no impurities to be found with a quick glance. Stannis Baratheon was not what one would call a normal alchemist, hells he technically wasn't one as he hadn't joined the order but had rather blackmailed them spectacularly to learn all of their secrets, including the production of wildfire, arguably his personal favorite and the guild's most valuable secret.

He still remembered the conversation the two of them had had, though in the broadest sense it boiled down to Stannis saying, '_you teach me everything you know and I don't tell my brother you planned to immolate his new city, so he won't destroy your guild_', it was a simple choice if he was being honest with himself, though Stannis was made to swear a vow never to share anything he'd learned. Even so he hadn't exactly taken someone who would so easily resort to blackmail at his word and he'd figured he would've just been instructing a noble who could be swayed with cheap tricks like turning copper into gold, an old alchemists' illusion to make some quick money.

But much to his consternation he found Stannis Baratheon to be a more interested, attentive and overall better student than most proper acolytes, the man needed only a brief education in nomenclature which he strangely seemed to lack for someone so knowledgeable and who according to some very unlikely rumors could even use alchemy himself before even having set foot in their hall, that was all it took for him to throw himself into alchemy with a will, within weeks he was expertly producing dyes and poultices that would normally take months to learn to make and he had quickly sought to learn about the more esoteric aspects of the order. Hallyne was shocked when he learned that Lord Stannis had already independently figured out how the false gold trick was done, namely by heating the copper inside saltwater with strips of zinc. The man had also correctly guessed some of the ingredients of wildfire, though he had no idea about the magic chants and ratios of blood with the regular mixture one had to add to make it function as it should, which is where the Wisdom had to provide most of his guidance.

He inspected the substance Lord Stannis had handed to him more thoroughly this time and found it indeed no different from something he would produce him being a Wisdom who had devoted most of his life practicing the craft, "It seems if you had joined the Guild properly you would have now been granted the rank of Wisdom, _congratulations_.", he said tiredly and without a single hint of pride for the student he helped teach.

If the Master of Ships noticed this then he gave no outward indication as he merely accepted the '_praise_' with the normal platitudes and strangely enough even thanked the Wisdom for his time, '_well, at least the guild is safe now_', he thought a strange emptiness filling when he realized that probably the most capable alchemist he had ever met wasn't even a member of their order.

**A/N**

**Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter as always please leave a review it really is a big motivator for me to write more. This chapter was more of an interlude showing the random stuff Stannis learns and sets up without Robert or Jon there to tell him to stop. I hope I brought Varys' antagonism towards him out loud and clear and you guys can expect his sojourn with the alchemists to exacerbate it even more. I've also continued writing the outline of the story and I've ran into a wall with Stannis' relationship with Arianne once I re-read her chapters in the books, so I apologize to those who voted for her, but I'm changing that part of the story and who his Queen will be, but I'll leave it as a surprise this time. Anyway, see you next time, same bat-time, same bat-channel.**

**Sincerely,**

**Digsjin**


	4. Chapter III

**Barristan I**

He quietly sat down in the chair that he still thought of as rightfully belonging to Ser Gerold, having been allowed to join in the Stag's small council meeting for the first time thanks to his brother. Speaking of which…, "Not that I mislike having you here with us Lord Commander, but didn't Robert forbid you from participating.", The lord Hand Jon Arryn said and Barristan was about to offer the harshest rebuke he could possibly come up with without causing himself undo amounts of trouble, but Lord Stannis saved him the aforementioned trouble.

"I asked him to attend", he said quietly not even deigning to look up from the book he was currently reading, "despite my brother's frustrating tendency to associate everyone and their mother with Targaryen madness, I for one know that Ser Barristan is a man of honor and duty, whose council we'd be wise not to be left bereft of, not to mention he knows more about the houses I plan to subdue than anyone else here."

"_Duty, Duty, Duty_", Stannis' raven briefly cawed after he'd finished speaking, seemingly accentuating the man's point.

That much was true, and Lord Arryn acquiesced with an unsure nod, though the withering glare he sent the raven probably indicated that he'd be having words with the elder Baratheon later, something that would no doubt inflame the petty conflicts that had begun to grow common between the two brothers.

"W-well, with that I suppose we should commence the meeting.", Pycelle said the old doddering voice forcing Stannis to clench his teeth with annoyance, Barristan noticed with a small internal smile.

"Indeed", Lord Arryn said, "How goes the fleet to take Dragonstone, Lord Stannis?", Stannis looked up at him and blinked wearily his raven sporting a quizzical expression at this before he curtly said, "It goes, the issue is not the amount of ships, but rather the fact that they all lack experienced crews suited for large-scale naval combat."

Lord Arryn rubbed his temples in annoyance and said, "I was hoping you wouldn't say that, I know my cousins are mostly used to dealing with pirates, but to hear they would have such a lacking navy…", he left the last part of his sentence hanging and muttered what sounded like a curse under his breath.

"Yes, though that's mostly the case for all Westerosi navies except the Ironborn, who themselves are Pirates.", Stannis began his usual impassive speech not giving away the point of what he was trying to say, "though I believe I may have a way to gain us a few extra ships, experienced crew and remove some of Dragonstone's defenders at the same time."

"Oh, and do you require some sacrifices for that particular impossible feat of magic?", Lord Varys asked masking the insult in a jape, but his frosty contempt for Lord Stannis came through loud and clear.

Before any of the other council members including Barristan himself could interject Stannis chuckled lightly in a mockery of the eunuch's own childlike laughter and said with a faux scandalized expression, "Lord Varys, I am shocked and appalled that that is your opinion of me, but I assure you, the only thing I require for this particular bit of magic isn't a pair of stones, but rather a piece of paper.", the spider's expression turned vaguely murderous at this insinuation and Barristan struggled not to openly laugh at the normally inscrutable eunuch's expression.

But before the spider could make a comeback Lord Arryn interjected with a wary, "And what sort of piece of paper is that Lord Stannis?", Stannis smiled and his Raven flew over to where Pycelle kept most of the parchment that was used to write down important conclusions reached in the Small Council meetings, "Why a royal pardon, Lord Arryn.", Stannis said with total equanimity.

"_Par-don_", the raven said while perched atop the sheet of parchment.

Most men's eyebrows rose, that was not something spoken of, let alone used lightly, "For whom?", Lord Arryn asked warily once again, though most everyone except Pycelle and Barristan himself disliked Lord Stannis, the former because he was the only one in the capital who shared an interest in dusty old books and the latter because he treated him with respect befitting his station no one could deny the man's effectiveness at, well… _anything_, now that Barristan thought about it.

"The Velaryons of Driftmark, in exchange for them bending the knee, surrendering their extensively well-maintained fleet to our cause and paying slightly raised taxes, of course.", he said with the same total equanimity he had utilized since the meeting started.

Jon Arryn's frown deepened in thought as he considered the option, Barristan did as well and he came to the conclusion that the Velaryons were never the staunchest supporters of Prince Rhaegar and only fought because they felt they stood to lose more than they had to keep, he said as much and the lord hand's frown deepened even more. Eventually he said, "You realize Robert wouldn't approve?".

Lord Stannis shrugged as if to say, '_what can you do_?', then said, "I'll take the blame as I always do, but the quicker we get this done the quicker Dragonstone falls."

Jon Arryn sighed and gestured for Pycelle to hand him a parchment, he presumably began to write down the terms for the Velaryons to bend the knee to King Robert without any of the severe repercussions Lords Celtigar and Sunglass had been made to accept, it was in that moment that Stannis reminded him of someone he didn't want to remember, not because he disliked him but rather because he had failed him. In that moment Lord Stannis, reading a book, his raven perched upon his shoulder with a small quirk of the lips not big enough to be called a smile plastered on his face, looked almost exactly like Rhaegar after having won an argument with the Old Lion and Barristan didn't really know what to do with that new information.

**Aurane I**

As he was knocked on his ass for the nth time in a row by his new mentor it was all he could do not to say, '_fuck it_' and rush at him directly with actual intent to kill. After an agreement that had been made between him and his older brother Monford, the Velaryons had bent the knee to the new Baratheon dynasty, albeit in exchange for substantial influence within the purview of the Royal Fleet, responsibilities and privileges that had slightly exceeded those that they had held under the Targaryens, but would only be granted after Dragonstone had fallen with the help of Driftmark's fleet. In the meantime, Lord Stannis Baratheon, the newly minted Master of Ships had requested a hostage to ensure their loyalty, not an unusual request in it of itself, but instead of taking his nephew Monetrys he had chosen Aurane Waters, The Bastard of Driftmark, aka. himself. To serve as his squire of all things!

Not a bad job on paper, being the squire of what was technically the Crown Prince would've ordinarily been a great honor, but with Lord Stannis it was different as he'd initially thought he'd be forced to wait hand and foot on a humorless authoritarian who was rumored to partake in dark magics that entailed animal sacrifice, whether the last part was true or not was something every single Baratheon man-at-arms he had met so far was remarkably coy about, but Aurane had found the other two misconceptions to be greatly lacking in truth.

Lord Stannis was a complex man, sure he could be humorless, pedantic and exuded a calm assurance in his own authority that bordered on arrogance, but in the week he had been made to fetch and carry during all of his meetings he found that there was a side to the man most would not get to see. The Master of Ships could be humorous, though he preferred a sort of dry wit that tended to go over most people's heads and was even kind in some ways, if not to most people than at the very least to his three pet ravens that he kept in his office, one of which was usually perched upon the man's shoulder and would occasionally annoy everyone in its vicinity, though Lord Stannis usually heeded its surprisingly accurate warnings.

The only downside to this new job he found himself in was the combat training. For someone like Lord Stannis who by his own admition despised tourneys, jousts and most other martial pursuits knights usually partook in, the man still hit like a charging bull and the fact that he'd insisted on sparring on a ship in order to practice for the upcoming battles was not helping him as the waves hitting the hull often threw him completely off balance and left openings which Lord Stannis ruthlessly exploited. By the first week of this training he had felt like his entire body was one big bruise and now he felt like he could hold his own if barely, but he still knew that Lord Stannis was holding back, a lot, which infuriated him even more.

A large hand extended from above him and he took hold of it, barely avoiding falling again as it quickly hoisted him up, he blinked away the spots in his eyes from having stared at the sun lost in his thoughts for too long and noticed that Stannis' normally stern visage sported a small smile, which if he didn't know better seemed like it radiated paternal pride.

"You're improving.", Stannis said curtly, but not unkindly.

"It sure doesn't feel that way.", Aurane murmured quietly to himself more that to Stannis.

His mentor snorted at that and said, "That's only because I keep making it harder for you, but trust me, you are getting better.", he finished and handed him a leather wineskin, Aurane drank deeply from it only to find that instead of wine it was a sort of lukewarm apple juice, he nearly spit it out, not because of the taste as it wasn't actually half-bad, but because he was expecting some of the well-watered dornish wine that he had often poured for Lord Stannis during his meetings.

"Lukewarm apple juice?", he asked, and Stannis nodded slowly, "The best thing you can do after a fight or a spar is drink fruit juice, but if it's cold it'll give you muscle cramps.", the '_hence this_' was left unsaid.

Things settled into a comfortable silence after that as the ship they were on returned from its inspection of the patrols back to the capital, Lord Stannis leant against the rails and began to read the book he had brought with him on the subject of the major naval engagements during the first Blackfyre Rebellion. The Crown Prince was rarely espied without a book Aurane had found, often reading one during meetings with people he could afford to offend and while eating meals when alone. Eventually Aurane couldn't stomach the crushing embrace of silence and asked the question that had been on his mind since Lord Stannis had first come to Driftmark.

"Why do you read so much?", he blurted out barely cognizant of how stupid the interruption sounded without a decent conversation opener to begin.

"Many reasons," Stannis said, sapphire blue eyes peering at Aurane over the cover of the book. "Look at me and tell me what I am."

"You're you. Lord Stannis Baratheon," said Aurane wearily. He had never truly verbally sparred with anyone as according to his brother Monford most lords in the King's court Baratheon or Targaryen were wont to do, but he at the very least knew a trap when he heard one.

Stannis' mouth twitched slightly. "That's who I am, but who is merely the function of what and what I am is my older brother's shit-spittle" he amended with no small amount of bitterness but sent a look to prevent Aurane from contradicting him. "In any case, he's the heir and I'm just the spare."

Quick as a shadow-cat, the prince hopped off from the rail he was leaning on and in one smooth motion, landed next to where Aurane had sat down. Stannis' raven flying away, presumably startled by the sudden motion.

"My brother has his Warhammer and fearsome reputation, while I have my wits and my dark reputation, but regardless the both of us must do our part for the honor of our house, wouldn't you agree?"

Aurane nodded mutely, he had seen many sides of Lord Stannis, but the bitterness in the words he was now spewing that portrayed the man's often mysterious innermost thoughts concerning Westeros' new monarch could only make him nod mutely as an indicator that he should continue speaking.

Stannis breathed a large tired sigh and said, "At any rate, my brother has his hammer and I have my mind, and a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone if it is to keep its edge, and mine shall need to be as sharp as Valyrian Steel if I hope to keep my head attached to my shoulders."

Aurane blinked taken aback by the words, "Why…", he started before he was quickly interrupted by the Master of Ships.

"Oh, that's just because I don't think I could bear to have the separated at this time.", Stannis quipped dramatically.

Stannis' humor could be so strange at times that Aurane could never truly warp his head around it, "There's something you know that you're not telling me, isn't there?", he settled for asking.

"There's many things I know, and I keep quiet about most of them", Stannis replied with complete equanimity and an infuriating grin that looked odd on his normally stern features. The conversation lulled back into silence, but then Stannis broke it again, "I like books", he began more quietly this time, "they let you visit places you've never been to before, they teach you interesting things and they never ask anything in return, what better companion could one ask for?", he asked rhetorically.

It dawned on Aurane that in some ways the Crown Prince of Westeros was just as lonely as the Bastard of Driftmark if not more so, the difference lied in how they approached the issue. While Aurane resented the fact that society had condemned him with loneliness through the nature of his birth, Stannis on the other hand reveled in the distance he had inadvertently created between himself and others through his rumored practice of magic, so Aurane did what he felt was right and answered Stannis' rhetorical question without any malice, "A friend?"

His mentor snorted at that, but whether in amusement or contempt Aurane couldn't accurately say, "Many people want to be friends with the King's brother, just Stannis on the other hand… Who would want to be friends with him?", he finished with a solemn expression which was somehow even more grim than the usual expression he bore.

Aurane stared at him momentarily as Stannis' raven returned to its rightful place on his shoulder he began to feel an odd sense of closeness to the slightly older Lord and said, "I could be your friend, that is if you don't mind having a bastard as one.", he said the last part in jest, though ice began to form in his gut at the thought of what Stannis' answer would be.

The man smiled sardonically for a moment and said, "I'd be glad to call you a friend, though just keep in mind that I can be a bigger bastard than you.", he extended his hand and Aurane grasped it firmly. The tightness in his gut receded and was replaced by something Aurane couldn't quite put his finger on, the feeling of being accepted mayhaps?

**Melisandre I**

The flames flickered on the torch sconce and Melisandre tried to look deeper into them to see the visions her lord had sent to her. Throughout her life, even before being sold as a slave to the temple of her lord in Volantis and before her aptitude for Shadow-binding was recognized and she was formerly trained in Asshai her visions had remained the single-constant. Always showing a dour, bald man with a grim expression perched upon a throne of what looked like Dragonglass. The man was not always on the throne, sometimes he was wielding the prophesized blade Lightbringer during a large battle, other times he was standing on what looked like a glacier, which she later learned was the Wall of the Night's Watch that Lomas Longstrider had spoken of in his books. She knew in her heart of hearts that this man was Azor Ahai, the man who would save the world from the long-night. The problem was she had never heard of anyone who matched his description, but she kept on searching with a fierce determination that only the zeal of faith could fuel.

Lately though she was disquieted, the visions had changed, they became fuzzier and harder to make out, which was not unusual in of itself. She always had periods of time where the clarity of her visions would change, that was to be expected, the real problem was that the _content_ was changing and Melisandre of Asshai didn't know what to feel about that. That dour man, whose name was unknown had been her metaphorical rock since childhood…

It was with these disquieting thoughts that her lord answered her unsent prayers and the inside of the flame began to twist and warp and there she saw it, a vision of a man, who looked not unlike the man from her original visions. He looked just as dour and imposing as the first, the difference was that he had more feline features, his face was more angled and sharper, he was clean shaven of pallet, but sported the same bald head he had had in the original visions. It was only after a few minutes of discerning the man's features that she noticed the man's beautiful sapphire blue eyes and the lips that matched them… The realization came slowly, but was rapidly overtaken by her thought of, '_Surely not_. _Surely R'hollor would not name one of those up jumped warlocks from Qarth as his chosen?_'

The flames began to warp and twist again, they now showed the man at the head of a marching army, wielding a blade made of Valyrian steel, with a golden circlet around his head, a crown, she realized. And there was only one place in the whole world with Kings like that… It seems Melisandre of Asshai would be headed West for the foreseeable future.

**A/N**

**I'm sorry for taking down the last chapter, but as most of you pointed out that conversation between Stannis and Aurane was reused from my last fanfic where Jon was talking to Stannis and it therefore didn't flow very well. As I still want Stannis to have a similar relationship with Aurane as he did with Jon in the original some of the stuff will be re-used, but I'll try to re-tool it better. As always please drop a review if you're feeling generous and I'll see you guys next time, same bat-time, same bat-channel.**


	5. Chapter IV

**Stannis II**

I've always really despised weddings, even in my last life any friend who invited me to one immediately lost some prestige in my mind. Not because of the marriage mind you, I'm not jaded enough to believe two people can never truly fall in love, but because of the fact that they took a lot of their precious time and money to organize a party where, let's face it, no one except the old grandmas who were invited are happy to be there (at least the guests, the people who're getting paid must be at least nominally happy).

In the words of Illyrio "_The Fattest Fuck_" Mopatis, a wedding without at least three deaths is a dull affair, and a wedding without any deaths where I'm forced to listen to the Rains of Castamere twenty fucking times every ten minutes doubly so. It's a cool song, don't get me wrong, but seeing Tywin Lannister's _happy_ face every time it plays, gets old really fast. Not to mention the fact that he's appraising my older brother like a hunter might appraise a lost foal, which fair enough he'll basically have the Iron Throne by the balls within the next five years. Cersei will be queen, Pycelle will be his spy and thanks to Baelish he'll own a large part of the Crown's debt, I had to hand it to the Old Lion, he played the game very well, too bad his golden twins were such fuck-ups in general, otherwise he would've probably won.

"Lord Stannis, pardon me, but it would be a pleasure to dance with my new good-brother.", Cersei's melodic voice jolted me from my musings, and I grimaced internally. She was extremely beautiful, no doubt about that, and in case you were wondering looked almost nothing like Lena Heady, she had her hair done up in curls rather than the braids you see on the TV show, but she was wearing a red dress like the one you usually see her with in the show.

"It would likewise be my pleasure my queen.", She preened at the fact that I used her as of yet unofficial title, she seemed quite happy now and I almost felt sorry for the little psychopath knowing how her wedding night would look like. That is until I remembered Joffrey, the fact that she slept with her brother this morning and the fact that she committed her first act of murder before hitting puberty, then those feelings which were meager at the start flew right out the window.

We made it to the dance floor, and she led me through one of those Waltz like Westerlands dances that were foreign to us Stormlanders, _and Americans_, I added the last part in my own mind. I was never very good at dancing in my last life, but Qarro's lessons had given me quite a good balance, at least enough to avoid treading on the lioness-bitch's toes. The bards were also playing a slower rendition of the Rains of Castamere, which was suspiciously like the one during the Red Wedding and I'm not ashamed to admit it did send a few shivers down my spine knowing that the Lannisters were perfectly willing and able to break one of the most sacred laws that kept these barbarians in what passed for civilization cordial_, then again, so was I_.

"I must say Lord Stannis.", Cersei began with her trademark condescending innocence, "I'm very ignorant about military matters, but wouldn't defending a castle like Storm's End be easy?", I grinned internally, but outwardly raised a bemused eyebrow as she led me through another pirouette, verbally sparring and her cunt were the only things she was good for and I would only get to enjoy one of the two, so why not make the best of it.

"Yes, quite easy indeed.", I began, the unexpected response throwing her for a loop, "and your ignorance in these matters is unsurprising, being a fine lady and all.", I smiled tightly while her brows furrowed in anger before changing into the impassiveness I normally tried to portray. Her defining characteristic was not being born with a dick and resenting the rest of society for it and I was going to milk this for all it was worth.

"Yes, of course, but as I said, do you truly believe the name 'Stubborn Stag' is warranted when one uses craven magics to slay honorable, valiant knights?", she asked a hint of venom penetrating her polite façade.

"These 'craven magics' as you so eloquently put it my lady, made those _valiant_ knights run like cravens, but I suppose you should ask them, those honorable men came up with the nickname after all.", I replied with total equanimity her eyes the only thing betraying her anger at the fact that she hadn't scored any imagined victories over me.

"I must say my lord you are the most stone-faced man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.", she replied a sneer pulling at her face.

"That I am my lady.", I replied curtly, her face suddenly switched to the one most people make when they thought of something witty to say, "Mayhaps you would look good as a statue in the gardens.", she chuckled lightly at her own jape, probably expecting me to grind my teeth like canon Mannis.

"I look good anywhere my lady.", I replied with a lecherous smile and wink that made her visibly flinch back in a small amount of fear. Meanwhile I was laughing my ass off internally as she excused herself, probably to get Jamie to prevent the creepy Baratheon from man-handling her.

I sighed morosely and made my way back to the high-table, my brother as usual was deep into his cups by now and Jon Arryn, who was for all intents and purposes a saint for dealing with him for so long, was placing a hand on his shoulder to stop Robert from embarrassing himself further. I had put Renly to bed a few hours ago, my presence was not strictly speaking required anymore and every single woman here was disappointed that they weren't the ones to marry Robert and become queen, which meant that all of them were jealous and resentful, not the hardest mood to convince one to sleep with me, but not the easiest either, not to mention if I picked the wrong one I would have to marry her…

It suddenly dawned on me, I knew exactly where that goddamned tunnel to Chataya's was, I wanted to kick myself in the face. I was essentially sitting here with my thumb up my ass being extremely bored on the off chance I might get some pussy and or discover something interesting, when there was a Summer Islander woman (women who worshipped a Sex God), who was perfectly willing and able to sleep with me a short walk away. I grinned merely, a foreign expression on my features that made the people who were looking at me do a double take. And thus, I sauntered off to balance this dull affair out with a more Baratheon activity.

**Aurane II**

'_The battlefield is no place for gods_', these were the words that Stannis Baratheon had said to him the night before they stormed the walls of Dragonstone, when Aurane had asked him if he prayed to the seven before a fight. He didn't understand what Stannis had meant then, but he sure as shit understood it now. The battle was bloody and chaotic, the more experienced men-at-arms had stayed inside the walls of the castle but had forced their peasant levies to rush out at them. They had been quickly cut down by the more experienced soldiers, Aurane being one of said soldiers and he felt like one large bruise under the plate armor Stannis had gifted him, every single one of his muscles burned from having swung his sword easily over a thousand times today.

He tried to remain focused on the pain, if he didn't, he'd have to think, and he really didn't want to do that. He knew some of those men, sailed and fished with them… He looked around noticing the dead bodies that littered the corridors of the once majestic and spotless fortress, the sight of the dried blood on his longsword and armor coupled with the stench of the bodies that had pissed themselves was enough for bile o begin building at the back of his throat.

He ruthlessly squashed down on the urge to vomit, but as he looked down met the sight of a dead knight, that going by the heraldry emblazoned on his armor had been sworn to House Crabb, a most unwelcome thought went through him at that point, "_Any of these corpses could've been me if Stannis and Qarro hadn't been there._" The bile left his mouth in a torrent of vomit as he tore of his helmet, he could vaguely feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, he didn't care who saw him then, but the steady hand that was placed on his shoulder startled him anyway. He looked up to see the face of Stannis and was momentarily overcome with embarrassment, but it abated as soon as he saw the smile Stannis was giving him.

His mentor was never one to give up his grip on his emotions, but after the time spent under him Aurane felt he understood the man a little better now and he knew that the smile he was currently giving him wasn't one of mockery or pity, but rather understanding. That calmed him down more than he'd like to admit. Stannis sat down next to him, though it took considerable effort since he was wearing heavy plate armor and quietly said: "It's alright to feel like this, in fact I'd be more worried if this wasn't your reaction during your first kill."

The intensity of Aurane's sobs began to decrease as he considered the man's words, but they continued nonetheless, "I've fought with and against many men for most of my life Aurane, the fact that we feel this way for taking a life is proof that we're still human", he paused here but whether for effect or to figure out what to say properly, Aurane couldn't truly say, "people cope with it in different ways, some healthy, some… _not_, me personally, I try to remember the face of everyone I've ever killed", Aurane was surprised, this sounded like the exact opposite of a coping mechanism, "I feel I owe it to them not to forget them, after all, they'll never forget me."

In that moment Stannis seemed wiser and more venerable than the Father himself, he wasn't ashamed he briefly cried into his friend's shoulder as the older Lord patted him on the back, eventually when the cries ceased Stannis helped him stand up. He wiped the last few tears from his face and finally regained his composure.

Stannis stretched out lazily for a bit before he looked back to him, a small smile gracing his features he only said, "kneel", as impassively as he usually did though the smile never left his face. Aurane did as asked, though the ordeal of the day didn't allow his mind to process what was happening until Stannis drew his longsword and placed it on his right shoulder, it suddenly dawned on him, "_Surely not._", he thought.

"Aurane Waters", Stannis bellowed with his booming battlefield commander voice, the men who were in their general vicinity all looked at him, a small amount of red graced Aurane's cheeks at this, his pale visage making it noticeable, but he instead re-focused his attention on Stannis' words rather than the stares.

"Do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?", Stannis and for the first time since he met him the pride in his voice came through loud and clear.

"I do", Aurane intoned reverently.

Stannis smiled at him lightly, though Aurane recognized it for what it actually was, the man was practically beaming at him, "So be it, then in the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name the Father I charge you to be just. In the name the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent and in the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women... Rise Ser Aurane of Dragonstone, a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

"_Knight, Knight, Knight_", Nevermore as he had later learned the Raven was called cawed in tandem with the raucous cheering of the men.

He slowly stood up to the very same clapping and cheering of all the men-at-arms who had helped in taking Dragonstone, he'd never felt prouder than in that moment and did what felt natural, "A round of drinks on Ser Aurane when we get back to King's Landing!", this, needless to say, made the cheering much louder.

**Davos III**

Dragonstone was not a nice fortress, Davos found and Lord Stannis wholeheartedly concurred, having japed on multiple occasions that Targaryen madness stemmed from having to navigate the dark winding hallways of a volcanic fortress on a near daily basis. Though despite this Stannis still seemed to be an expert on its construction and interior decoration, having given Davos a history lesson on nearly every statue and painting they had passed by on their way to the chamber with the painted table, the only thing Stannis had actually wanted to see.

Having arrived at the chamber Lord Stannis quickly made for the chair at its head and sat down lazily, "_the same chair where Aegon the Conqueror once sat_", he thought breathlessly. Stannis looked at him and smiled sadly for a moment before saying, "Ser Davos, I have a special assignment I can only trust to you and those you trust implicitly."

His back straightened at this, Ser Davos knew Stannis trusted him implicitly, though even he didn't know why, but he still tried to be worthy of the trust. "What is the fastest ship in the Royal Navy?", Stannis asked simply.

"The Black Betha", Davos answered, though he had no idea where this line of inquiry would lead. Stannis nodded breathlessly, pulled out a parchment, a quill, candle and some wax and began to scribble something down. Davos had been made to learn to read by Stannis and he was capable of doing so with simple sentences, but complex things like what Stannis was presumably writing were beyond him.

When Stannis finished writing, he sealed the letter with the seal of the Master of Ships rather than his own, and handed it to Davos, he then began, "This is an edict conferring 'The Black Betha' as my private property", Davos eyebrows began to rise in surprise at this, "I need you to loot everything of value you can find on Dragonstone, put it on that ship, along with enough supplies to cross the Narrow Sea and a loyal crew that would be willing to sail it for a period of about seven years."

Stannis said this without his facial expression changing at all and his tone of voice could be mistaken for him announcing he wanted to take a piss, which was somewhat reassuring since Davos' face looked slack-jawed and stupid, "Why?", he whispered in a state of absolute shock.

Stannis smiled tightly and said, "We took Dragonstone, but because I demanded more time to prepare the Targaryens managed to escape. I have no doubt that my brother plans to exile me once he finds this out, so I may as well get some gold and a nice ship out of this whole endeavor if we're going across the Narrow Sea anyway, besides I always wanted to be an explorer like Lomas Longstrider…", Davos could tell the last part was said more for Stannis' benefit than his own so he chose to disregard it.

Davos nodded worriedly and began to do as ordered, but before he crossed the threshold of the room Stannis said, "Cheer up Ser Davos, if all goes to plan you'll be the first Westerosi smuggler to have ever been to Asshai.", knowing the stories about the city that sailors usually told did the exact opposite of lessening his worry about the extremely dubious legality of what they were about to do.

**Barristan II**

The Red Keep had changed substantially since the days of the Mad King, the usurper… no, King Robert had seen fit to dispose of the Dragon Skulls turning the formerly foreboding and claustrophobic chamber into a wide echoing space, the iron throne, however, remained as intimidating as ever and the presence of the giant Baratheon sitting on it managed to instill more fear into anyone who was made the target of his wrath than any other Targaryen who sat upon it since Aegon the Conqueror, the effects were slightly muffled as the King had imbibed a worrying amount of wine earlier today when the reports of Dragonstone arrived and one could probably smell it from the entrance if one payed enough attention.

Barristan took up his position to the right of his new king, currently being one of the two remaining Kingsguard left, along with his brother, though he'd hesitate to call him that due to his crime of regicide. It was then that the herald banging his quarterstaff on the floor announced: "Announcing Prince Stannis, Master of Ships."

Barristan didn't really know what to make of Lord Stannis, he was polite if not curt, he did his job well, but something about those calculating blue eyes and that serious expression reminded him of Tywin Lannister, and the… _bloodied babes wrapped in Lannister crimson_. Another would-be similarity if Viserys and his mother didn't manage to escape Dragonstone, he thought.

The Master of Ships fell to one knee and said in the voice he used when he commanded his troops, a voice which managed to carry over to every single person in the expansive echoing chamber of the court: "Your Grace, Dragonstone is yours", despite the weight of such an accomplishment Barristan couldn't detect a single hint of pride in the man's voice, he announced it much the same tone one would use to announce that one had to make water, just a statement of fact, something which bodes ill for the well-being of Viserys, he thought.

A brief cheer went up along the gathered nobles, until they noticed the King's oppressive silence and foreboding expression, "And what of the Targs?!", he spat with such venom that Barristan would've had to withhold a wince had he been any less experienced in dealing with cantankerous monarchs.

The two brothers' eyes met one filled with loathing and the other with acceptance, resignation, perhaps even satisfaction. Stannis answered without pause and said: "Here I must admit failure your grace, Ser Willem Darry and Viserys fled with his newly born sister whose name I did not manage to ascertain, though Queen Rhaela died during the birthing.", at this the King ground his teeth so hard that Barristan thought they were going to break and shouted: "You did not pursue?!".

Stannis shook his head and simply said a curt, but firm: "No." This managed to enrage King Robert even further who began to verbally abuse his brother with every curse word in the common tongue, the lord hand failing to calm him down, eventually he said: "Out, I want you out, now!", perhaps it was the Prince's calm demeanor as he accepted the rebukes and walked out as if nothing was wrong that managed to enrage the King even more until he said: "And never come back, or I'll have your head on a spike!"

A muffled gasp came from the gathered nobles, Stannis turning to glare at his brother so hatefully that a lesser man would've recoiled in fright and said in a powerful, booming voice: "And add another cursed epithet to your name, Kinslayer as well as Usurper? I think not", he paused here letting the alarmed whispers of the gathered nobles pass over him like waves on the shore but before his brother could actually make the command that Barristan could see he was practically frothing at the mouth to make he added, "go ahead, have Ser Illyn remove my head for my imprudence and disappoint mother and father again.", he added in a tone which apart from the words could've been mistaken as him discussing the weather.

Robert was now so angry his face turned red, "Out, and never come back!", he snarled, his brother nodded sharply and left, "Out all of you!", he said to the gathered nobles. "_Service with Robert isn't very rewarding,_ he thought, "_but at least it's interesting"._

_**A/N**_

_**Hey guys hope you enjoyed this chapter and as always if you're feeling generous please drop a review. I hope to give you guys a fairly expansive tour of Essos in the next few chapters before you see exactly what Stannis' master plan is for taking the Iron Throne, a few of you expected him to stay in Westeros, but in all honesty that would've undermined his position way too much as he would've ended up being married to Selyse Florent no matter what he did, so instead the SI chose to antagonize Robert to the point where he tells him to fuck off and yes, Aurane is coming to Essos. I'll address some of your reviews as I found them,**_

_**Yes, the image of him with blue lips is quite comical if you're thinking of TV Stannis, but book Stannis looks quite intimidating like that, a bit like a much younger and more muscled Pyat Pree.**_

_**He'll get Shade of the Evening much later in the story.**_

_**A few allies will be made, but not Brienne of Tarth.**_

_**He'll still be fighting Renly in the War of the Five Kings**_

_**Y u no drop review!?**_

_**Thank you all for your kind words.**_


	6. Chapter V

**Stannis III**

What is there to say except for Braavos is breathtaking, the entrance to the city was marked by the famous Titan, which was the only thing I'd seen in this world that actually adhered to George "_I will never finish the books_" R.R. Martin's architectural gigantism, easily dwarfing the statue of Christ in Brazil by at least a factor five, though I was moderately disappointed by the fact that I didn't see any giant brass balls, _later occurring to me that this is the most homo-erotic thought I've ever had_. No, the Titan functioned as both a lighthouse and the first defense against invaders, though I'd say second considering the fact that the fires burning in its eyeholes are extremely necessary to navigate one's way around the pervasive mist that never seemed to leave the city and that very mist being the reason the Valyrians never found the place on their Dragons, marking it as the secret city.

The city itself was basically a carbon copy of Venice, but surrounded on all sides by hills, which made its outskirts seem more like those of Bern in Switzerland than any city I've ever been to in Italy. I should note that while Venice is currently now what amounts to a smelly ruin plagued by tourists, Braavos is a beautiful sprawling city plagued surprisingly by rats off all things. Currently I was touring the city to see if I could find anything interesting, apart from the Targaryens if you must ask, and yes, since I'm carrying my sword a few drunk Braavos challenged me to a fight, but after I unsheathed it and they saw it was Valyrian steel most of them ran away, considering it could probably shear through their pencil-thin swords like a knife through butter, those that didn't puss out? Well, it sheared through them like a knife through butter.

I had already accomplished my initial goal of auctioning off all of the items I borrowed (read: looted) from Dragonstone and I opened an account in the Iron Bank, which was surprisingly easy to do considering I wasn't asking for any sort of loan, though the concept of interest rates for holding money was entirely foreign to them but I didn't really much care, I just wanted the bulk of my new winnings to be safe and secure for the foreseeable future, security which I knew the Iron Bank could readily provide.

Walking around the city without meaning to I eventually ended up in the Isle of the Gods, probably an ill omen and I realized this because of the fact that the first thing that caught my eye was the temple of R'hollor, which stood mighty and proud in its center, its main spire in all of its hilarious phallic glory dwarfing even the temple of the Moonsingers, even though the latter was basically the state religion. I chuckled at the thought of Melisandre having anything to do with this, even though my paranoia indicated it may very well be the case, but then an errant and most unwelcome thought made its way through my brain, a very, very dangerous thought, but one which would undoubtedly simplify my future plans by an extremely wide margin, it could be expensive and risky, but it may very well be worth it.

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and made my way to The House of Black and White. I soon spotted the place, the small Greek temple with the doors that corresponded to its namesake was easy to miss, but I managed to latch on to an elderly man who was clearly from Braavos who looked very sick and was probably on his way there to receive the gift of the many faced god, I shuddered. There were Lovecraftian gods in this world, Pagan gods and near carbon copies of the Abrahamic gods I had been made to worship as a child, though the many faced god's worshippers were the only ones who had access to one of the most dangerous types of magic, a magic that required the sacrifice of one's very identity and thus one of the variants I do not wish to learn under any circumstances.

I pushed my way into the temple, the white door creaking as if its hinges hadn't been oiled since the Doom of Valyria, I chuckled at the thought considering it may very well be the case and made my way further in the temple until I reached the famous fountain with the stone benches. The inside was basically what one would expect, dark, gloomy, large pillars with a lot of faces carved into them with their eyes shut and the statues off all the gods the Faceless Men managed to get their hands on. I looked at the same statue of the Black Goat that Arya Stark had marveled at when she first came to the temple, it was while I was doing this that a Faceless Man approached me.

"Valar Dohaeris, it is not often a man from the Sunset Kingdoms visits us, how can a man serve?", he said, the same melodic voice the actor for Jaqen used in the TV show, though his face was that of a genial old man. The echo of his voice reverberated through the otherwise quiet temple and I'll admit it took every ounce of discipline I had not to jump, scream like a little girl and get the fuck out of there as fast as humanly possible.

"V-Valar Dohaeris.", I began and couldn't quite keep the quiver out of my voice, "I wish a man to be given the gift.", I finished with the customary steel my voice usually possessed, the Faceless Man gave me a friendly smile that was so out of place that it made the hairs at the back of my neck stand at attention.

"What is the name of the man who shall receive his gift.", the man said his voice as unwavering and quiet as it was during the start.

"Brynden "_Bloodraven_" Rivers", I said simply, no point beating around the bush and I was hoping my plan worked. The old man smiled genially and said, "I'm afraid a man will find this task difficult." I gave him a tired yet coy smile and said, "Yet not impossible?", Old Jaqen as I now thought of him smiled conspiratorially and just said, "Valar Morghulis", and began to skulk back into the shadows where he came from.

"Wait", I said a little confused, "What price does a man require?"

He blinked owlishly at me for a moment, before understanding slowly dawned on what I knew where his expertly controlled features, "A man is a servant of the Many Faced God, though a man does not know it, the price may be forgone, but only once.", with those words he disappeared from my line of sight.

I pondered his words for a moment and what they meant for my future, The Many Faced God was technically every single God that had anything to do with death, which meant according to the Faceless Men at least, I was definitely Azor Ahai, I wanted to bash my head against one of the pillars until my face was added to them, _fuck my life,_ _I didn't sign up for this shit!_

**Qyburn I**

Being ejected from both the Citadel and the service of a pentoshi cheesemonger for the necessary endeavors he had to partake in to finish his research, was, Qyburn had to admit to himself, definitely a new low for him and said situation was perfectly encapsulated by the fact that he was currently stuck brooding in a tavern in Tyrosh, without any coin whatsoever hoping against hope itself that he doesn't get sold into slavery, '_though not like they'd have many uses for an old fart like me_', he snorted with contempt, if he pretended he had no skills whatsoever then he may very well get away scot free and there was always the offer to join that sell-sword company, "_The Brave Companions_", or another such fancifully inaccurate name.

"May I take a seat?", A stern gravelly voice speaking in the recognizable low-Valyrian of the city he found himself in asked from behind him forcing him out of his musings, he turned to give the man a friendly smile, but whether to set himself at ease or the man who spoke Qyburn couldn't very well say, he turned to do so, but froze. The man, who could only be described as a veritable giant, was not from Tyrosh, of that Qyburn was sure. People from this city traditionally had long hair and beards, which they dyed in absurdly bright colors to denote social status, this man was clean shaven of both face and pate and his pale complexion indicated he originated from somewhere in Westeros… He seemed to lose himself in this examination of the man for such a long time that by the time reality reasserted itself, he looked quite annoyed at not having been given an answer, Qyburn chose to finish his friendly smile and wipe the curious expression off of his face, though he answered in Westerosi common, "Of course young man, far be it from me to deny someone from…?", he left the question hanging in the air, curiosity always served to assuage his worries much more than the cheap wine he was drinking and he certainly needed it now.

The man snorted in amusement, taking a sip from the mug of ale he had brought with him and completing his sentence in Westerosi common, "The Stormlands and what about you, old man, somewhere in the Reach if I had to guess…?", Qyburn smiled, he had initially thought the man to be from the North, his pale complexion and blue eyes had reminded him of the illustrations of the Red Kings of old.

"I'm from Maidenpool actually, but I spent quite a lot of time in Oldtown, in the Citadel to be precise.", he briefly thought about the grey sheep who had taken his chain, and slightly more fondly about Marwyn, the only one who had ever seen eye to eye with him.

The stranger smiled thinly, "Funny, I had once thought to become a Maester myself.", Qyburn overcome with some amount of genuine curiosity asked, "And why didn't you, if I may ask?"

"I tend to mistrust people who believe only they know what's best, Septons as well as Maesters, the only one I could actually respect in a sense was Archmaester Marwyn…", he left his sentence hanging and his face looked as if he was reminiscing about a world long lost. Qyburn found himself identifying with the youth in a way he would never have expected from anyone else, but he stifled an internal chuckle as he realized he didn't even know his name.

"I apologize, but I'm afraid I never asked your name young man, my own is Qyburn in case you were wondering.", something seemed to sparkle in the man's eyes at that.

"I know", he said with the same conviction as if he were saying the sky is blue and Qyburn felt his eyebrows rise in surprise and a small amount of fear if he was honest, "I read your treatise on the permanence of souls once our bodies shuffle of our mortal coil so to speak, fascinating stuff indeed."

Qyburn preened at the praise of his work that he thought no one except Marwyn and perhaps a particularly curious acolyte would bother to read, but he didn't miss how the man deflected the initial question and raised an accusatory eyebrow. The man chuckled bemusedly, having realized that Qyburn noticed his deflection and said, "My name is Stannis, Stannis Baratheon."

The old not-quite a Maester's mind froze in that instant, "The Stannis Baratheon!?", he found himself asking, Stannis looked at him quizzically and through a more thorough examination of the man's recognizable Baratheon features Qyburn was convinced the man was indeed Stannis, he smiled wanly for a moment, "Not unless there's another one I've never met."

The Crown Prince of Westeros was by now a living legend, breaking the siege of his ancestral home by using magic and essentially wiping his ass on every Andal tradition of conduct, being unofficially banished from his homeland and commandeering what was arguably the best ship of his brother's Royal Fleet in the process, "Y-You've read my work?", he managed to croak out.

Stannis nodded good-naturedly though his stern features didn't change, "Yes and as I said it was quite good, though my conclusions differed from yours slightly." Despite the fact that the man sitting opposite him was one of his homeland's most skilled warriors and arguably the most famous still-living practitioner of magic was not enough to deter his basic scholarly instincts to defend his work, "How so?", eh asked with a tone more haughty than he had originally intended.

Stannis raised an eyebrow and began, "Well, you've got all of the basic principles correct, but you fail to account for the idea of Reincarnation…"

"Apologies, but I've never encountered the term…", Qyburn reluctantly interjected.

"Not a problem, it's only really mentioned in some obscure faiths from beyond the Bone Mountains, but it's a theory that posits that there exists a finite amount of souls in the world and that they are re-used so to speak every time something new is born."

"Fascinating", Qyburn said earnestly, "Does this account for only the souls of people or animals and plants as well?"

"Well, actually certain faiths differ on that particular question, though I personally believe that only sentient beings, that is beings with the ability to…"

And that is the brief story of how the former Maester Qyburn found himself having the most intellectually stimulating conversation since he left the Citadel and was later convinced to join an expedition on '_The Black Betha_' lead by Stannis Baratheon as the ship's healer and 'research assistant' to the far east in order to discover new goods, forms of magic and in Lord Stannis' own words, '_to boldly go where no one has gone before_', a strange turn of phrase since many people had been there before and indeed lived there now, but it was a very rousing closing line to the speech Lord Stannis had used when speaking to the crew about the planned voyage and who was he to criticize his lord's oratory?

_**Passages of the Autobiography of Lord Aurane Brightfyre detailing his Expeditions to The Far East**__:_

"_When the then Lord Stannis had revealed the full breath and scope of the trip while 'Black Bessie' was being refitted in Braavos, most sailors were shocked beyond belief. At the time it wasn't completely unusual for a Westerosi Lord to tour the free cities, though most Lords did this either when they were a few years younger than his Grace was at the time or when they were significantly older and had an heir to pass everything on to, like how King Stannis' father Lord Steffon had done. His Grace however, had none of these things and merely wished to explore for exploration's sake, much like my own ancestor Colrys Velaryon. […]The planned Voyage was meant to take us to all of the coastal free cities including Lys where his Grace introduced me to, shall we say the more pleasurable aspects of life, and Volantis a city which King Stannis hated almost immediately upon setting foot in it, both due to the stench and the harsh treatment which slaves experienced there. The trip was then meant to continue south of Old Valyria until we reached New Ghis, skipping over Slaver's Bay…"_

"_Tyrosh was where Stannis recruited Qyburn and I must admit I had my doubts about the man at first and while he can be a sycophant he is also loyal and extremely competent, to the point where he rapidly joined his Grace's inner circle after saving Qarro Volentin's arm and his life after a group of pirates had borded our ship and we were forced to fight, Ser Davos, King Stannis and myself all had experience in this type of combat, but some of the younger sailors…"_

"_New Ghis was a breathtaking city, the high pyramids were symbols of power over its slaves that dwarfed what the Iron Throne could exude in the face of its sworn lords, something that would annoy his Grace throughout his tenure. […] While most of the crew including myself and Ser Davos and were off exploring the city and bartering with the locals while trying and sometimes failing to hide our distaste for the practice of slavery, Lord Stannis and Qyburn were examining historical records and contrasting them with how New Ghis' army trained in order to get a complete picture of the training of the Old Lockstep legions, something which would later prove crucial to…"_

"_Of all the cities that we visited aside from Asshai by the Shadow, Qarth was probably the strangest of them all, the people there were extremely polite, almost to a fault and were also extremely rich, according to King Stannis this was merely due to the city's strategic placement in the Straights of Qarth which facilitated trade between the free cities, but some of the men claimed it was due to the magic of the Warlocks, something that was almost immediately dismissed by both Qyburn and his Grace, though they did spend some time researching their guild and traditions, aside from the wealth that was made from bartering goods, which were purchased in Volantis and New Ghis, Qarth will probably best be remembered in history by the fact that this is where his Grace won his trademark cloak made out of the fur of a white tiger in a game of dice he played with one of the cities' thirteen (their rulers)…"_

"_Yi-Ti was strange country, though I only ever visited the ports of Yin and Jinqi, in the former King Stannis had warned us not to offend any of the natives, saying that they held themselves to an odd, but rigid code of honor in which one could often accidentally offend someone to the point that they would be honor-bound together kill the offender or commit suicide themselves. Probably the most notable things about the place was the food, of which my favorite remains their rice-wines and their "noodles", an odd broth that is very odd to a Westerosi palate but is very tasty, cheap and filling and the women of the country, though unable to understand their horrible tongue it must be said that they produce some of the fairest women and architecture of the land, King Stannis being quite taken with both during our brief stay in both Yin and Jinqui, the latter port being where we sold most of our expensive wares and exchanged them for food, something which the sailors grumbled about, but his Grace explained that it was more profitable in the long-term because…_

**A/N**

**Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter, as always please drop a review if you're feeling generous. And don't worry, not all of Stannis' trip to the east will be narrated like this. Starting from Asshai onwards everything will be told in the same perspective as the other parts of the story, but frankly I didn't feel like writing whole chapters which essentially boil down to what Aurane said and won't have that much significant impact to the story except for the fact that Stannis is extremely well-traveled and has acquired a lot of money. It's only during his trip back that everything starts heating up and he gains even more stuff to help him for his plans.**


	7. Chapter VI

**Stannis IV**

Immediately upon arriving in Asshai by the Shadow one notices a couple of things, the fact that this city is massive and by massive I mean roughly the size of Mexico City even with skyscrapers of its own, though they were built in what seemed to me like the neo-gothic style of Renaissance England and the material they were built with was the famous oily black stone, which I'm pretty sure was in fact Glassy Carbon, a type of carbon molecule that was synthesized on Earth in the 1950s. Yes, the unique architecture was definitely the first thing one noticed, the second thing was the fact that the sun seemed utterly non-existent in Asshai, the weather always looked like there was a very dark storm cloud that blocked the sun overhead, something which messed with my Circadian Rhythm to no end and the third thing and also what I took advantage of the most was the fact that this city is so polluted with what I'm dubbing '_Magic-Fuckery-Chernobyl-Radiation_', only because I lack another way to explain its effects to my mind which still attempted to understand the world through science. The aforementioned radiation was what caused the eerie green glow of the large river that flowed through the center of the city and was what presumably caused the weird mutations of the fish swimming within it and the inability of plants and livestock to live in Asshai.

As I said, we took complete advantage of this the same as the other few traders who passed by, we hiked up the price of foodstuffs to ridiculous amounts and the natives always managed to pay with a lot, and I mean a lot of gold and jewels, so much so that I wouldn't be surprised if '_Black Bessie_' was now loaded up with more gold than the entirety of Tywin Lannister's collective shits throughout his life and considering the Westerlands' bullshitingly lucky geology that's saying something.

It was with these thoughts that I tipped the wineskin filled with Sake from Yi-Ti, down my throat, the cool alcoholic liquid burning with a familiar flavor I had missed as Westeros didn't really have any alcohol that was stronger than wine, though I intended to fix that once I sat on the Iron Throne, but it isn't exactly what one would call a priority…

The cool liquid brought words from a world away back into my mind, words that Daenerys had dismissed due to Mirri Maz Durr's treachery, but words that had wisdom in them if one cared to look, '_To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow',_ She completely ignored this part of Quaithe's prophecy when she couldn't figure out what it meant, needless to say I chose to take it literally and thus I walked in to the nearest building in the market with what looked like an apothecary's sign on top of the door.

"Ah welcome, welcome traveler, it's rare to see someone from the Sunset Kingdoms in these parts and rarer still to have one of them seek a seer out.", the accented voice of the woman made its way to me.

She was sitting behind a table, the wood of which was scratched and stained from what looked like decades of use, the stains probably came from the large quantity of potions and poultices which were stocked on numerous tall shelves in every corner of the otherwise spartan room. I flashed the woman a small smile, though my efforts to try and charm her would be wasted I knew. She was a shadowbinder if the veil she was wearing was anything to go by and she had thus likely lived much longer than me, so instead of the pleasant Smalltalk that both Westerosi and Americans were fond of I decided to sit down on one of the empty chairs and answer her unasked question, "They say you are able to tell the future, I was hoping to make use of your services."

She chuckled lightly, it was a surprisingly pleasant sound, "Of course, of course, payment?", she asked, and I smiled conspiratorially. The economy of Asshai was odd, most parts of the large city were abandoned and had valuables galore so its natives would scavenge for them and trade with outsiders for food, which is what their economy was based on. I placed two loaves of bread and a wineskin on the table, she apprised the items carefully before nodding her acceptance and beckoning for what I correctly assumed to be my palm. I extended my hand out to her and she pricked it with a small metal needle that from the distance and dim light could've been mistaken for Damascus Steel, or Qohorik whirl-steel. She then placed the needle in her mouth, the only part of her face apart from her eyes that wasn't covered and jumped out of her seat like a rabbit on crack, something which made me mimic her action a few moments later only I placed a hand on the pommel of my sword while she stared at me like she'd seen a ghost.

"Y-you, what are you?", she managed to get out breathlessly, at the beginning my thoughts immediately drifted to the idea that she realized I wasn't _from here_ so to speak, but I decided to play it safe, "What do you mean?"

"Do not play coy with me son of Terra!", she thundered with such force that belied her small frame her final word causing my mind to freeze and tumble not being able to come up with a retort, " I have studied magics from the Lands of Always Winter to the Corpse city of Sty'gai and I have not even remotely heard of anything like you, you will answer my question." , despite the calm tone in which she said the second sentence her glare would've been enough to get Tywin Lannister to piss his pants, despite this I took a few deep breaths and I slowly realized I could leverage this to my advantage.

"Equivalent Exchange", I said, my face betraying nothing of what I actually felt.

"Speak sense son of Terra.", she said, confusion marring her thinly veiled threat.

"The first law of the magic I practice is called Equivalent Exchange, essentially if you wish to gain something, something of equal value must be given in return, I will answer your questions satisfactorily and in detail, but you must render a service that is equal in value.", I said as my heart hammered in my chest.

"What kind of service?", she spat through gritted teeth. Good, her curiosity outweighed her fear of the unknown, a card I would play to my best advantage.

"My crew is staying in this city for two weeks, during one those two weeks I will teach you what I can about my existence and the variant of magic I practice and in return you will answer my questions about the magics that you have learned, do we have an accord?", I proposed with confidence I didn't actually have.

The shadowbinder seemed to mull it over for a few moments, even going so far as rubbing her chin in the vain of those looney toons characters when they were lost in thought, "Very well Stannis Baratheon, I accept your terms.", she said with more condescension in her voice than I expected, which made me want to laugh.

"Very well, but if we're going to be teaching each other it is only fair we both know each other's names…", I began.

"Leraya", she interrupted me, though her speech lacked any of the venom it had a few moments ago.

"Shall we begin then?", I asked my countenance not wavering in the slightest. She nodded her ascent and I drew upon all the knowledge I still possessed tutoring my little cousin in chemistry and mixed it with the dramatic speeches I still remembered from Full Metal Alchemist.

"I practice an art called Chemistry, it is like Alchemy in that it's the study of deconstruction, reconstruction and properties of Matter…"

I could say with a certainty that the two weeks I spent training under Leraya were some of the most productive of my life. Not only did I manage teach someone in this godforsaken backwater basic chemistry, but I also managed to create a '_Unified Field Theory of Magic_' of sorts, I knew before that there were several types of magic in this world, but my problem is that none of them seemed to be consistent, apparently Leraya had noticed this was well and she had created several categories of magic, categories which were not as well defined as I'd like, but honestly, they were leaps and bounds better than what the Maesters at the Citadel knew and therefore leaps and bounds ahead of what I knew, according to her there were four categories, Weirwood Magic, Warlock Magic, Rhoynish Magic and Blood Magic.

Weirwood Magic was as its name would suggest all of the magic that the Children of the Forest were capable of performing, which included warging, greensight and weather manipulation. Anyone who knows anything about ASOIAF knows that men are capable of doing so as well, but according to Leraya such magic requires the presence of a Heart-tree whose roots have absorbed blood, blood of someone capable of performing spells, so this magic only works in Westeros and maybe the Thousand Isles, though I'm not entirely sure about that and I don't plan on visiting them anyway.

Warlock Magic was entirely based around their iconic drink, Shade of the Evening, the addicting drug that tastes like everything you can possibly taste, and it apparently awakens the magical properties of blood that would otherwise be locked away for them. In sufficient quantities this drink can grant one visions, immortality, the ability to make something bigger on the inside and surprisingly enough teleportation powers, which meant that getting this was needless to say a very high priority for me.

Since the collapse of Rhoynish civilization there are very few people who know how their magic works and Leraya is no exception so she has no idea what its prerequisites are, but she was kind enough to tell me what it's capable of namely, "Waterbending", animal taming and according to some rumors it was even responsible for the creation of greyscale though both Maesters and I will dispute that, me for different reasons than them as magic no matter the type was both intent and knowledge based and I doubted one could simply will an entire disease into existence if one was completely unfamiliar with the workings viruses and bacteria.

The final type of magic and the one that my unified field theory revolved around was Blood Magic, this was responsible for everything from Glass Candles to Melisandre's Shadow Baby, and it required an incantation whether mental or enunciated in either High Valyrian or the tongue of the Empire of the Dawn and Asshai, what is this tongue you may ask? Well, she let me borrow a dictionary of sorts and it turns out that it is a carbon copy of Latin, I mean if Westerosi common was just English why wouldn't the greatest empire on the planet's language be Latin? At any rate, it requires the incantation to state your intent and affirm that you intend to sacrifice 'Life' to achieve your goals, it can be your own or it can be someone else's, but at the end of the day every spell required blood and according to most it was almost always necessary to use King's blood.

I on the other hand had a slightly different theory, every single type of Magic in Planetos requires blood or a sort of '_lifeforce_', alchemists on earth called this '_Vitalis_', but it doesn't have to be King's blood, it has to be sorcerer's blood, the distinction is not as obvious as it may seem as the ancestors of a lot of Kings were in fact sorcerers and therefore that part of the lore has become muddled, but at the end of the day sorcerer's blood provides the energy for the proverbial reaction that your magic would cause, the more it fucks with the laws of physics the more '_lifeforce_' it necessitates and this particular law applies to every single type of magic that I know of, even Hearttrees needed a sacrifice to become Weirwoods, the only exception to this rule was the Warlocks, but even then I'd bet top dollar that a component of their drug is sorcerer's blood, but I can't be sure until I get my hands on it.

**No One I**

He had been given contracts that were a pain in the ass before, but this particular endeavor was shaping up to be its own ordeal all on its own. By now he had trudged through the snow and gone north further than any Braavosi had ever been in history and rather than be impressed by this dubious distinction he wanted nothing more than to return home and take a nice warm shower, perhaps call in a favor with the merchant who had asked for the assassination of the last Sealord in order to make use of one of his higher priced courtesans without having to pay, "_yes, a simple iron coin places the fear of god into everyone at home, how could I not miss it?_", he asked himself rhetorically as he made his way to a what looked like the entrance of a cave in the middle of the snow.

Said entrance was not a cave as such, but it was the face of one of the gnarled Weirwood trees that the more barbaric Sunset Landers tended to worship, he took a deep breath and when he exhaled it came out as mist due to the cold, he silently thanked the many faced god for being able to find one of these barbarians and strip him of his furs, he doubted he'd be alive with the armor and face he had stolen from one of the Black Brothers. He thought for a moment to make sure he remembered all of the words correctly and then began to recite the oath;

"_Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the wall. I am the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come._", he said in rapid succession avoiding making pauses in his punctuation just in case it would render his little speech useless. Thankfully his fears were not to be when the mangled face of the tree creaked open with a similar squeal as the White Door in the temple he called home and a small circular opening just big enough for him to crawl through opened up in what was once the tree's mouth, he sighed morosely thoughts of home the only thing keeping him motivated at this point and shimmied in the opening.

He entered to find a cold cave, though it was surprisingly warmer than the outside, more than it had any right to be anyway. He made his way further inside noticing that it kept getting progressively warmer, and it was only then he spotted an old man with flowing silver hair sitting on a wooden chair by a fire that burned an eerie green, he silently stalked towards the man, his expertly trained steps not making any noise even in the relatively spacious chamber, he pulled out his steel knife and aimed it at the back of the old man's head in less time than it would take a normal man to blink his dagger had already entered the man's skull.

It took everything he had not to run away from what happened next, the knife entering the head did not make the classic squelching sound that one would associate with a knife puncturing human skin, in the same moment the assassin realized this the skinless skull clattered harmlessly to the floor along with the long silver wig that he had been wearing. The last sight he would see was something that no other man had seen for hundreds of years, a small number of green impish creatures silently came out of crevices in the wall he had not noticed before and stared at him with what he could only be described as naked, but genuine curiosity. His last coherent thought before his heart was punctured by the leg of a giant spider was, "_What a queer sight they'd make as a circus attraction back home._"

**Aurane III**

Ser Aurane had thoroughly enjoyed the voyage he had undertaken with Stannis, though he was more than a little relived to be leaving the more exotic places in the east behind to more well-known places. He enjoyed being in the Free Cities and Stannis had expressed interest in founding a Sell-Sword company and since Aurane really didn't want to go back to Driftmark that seemed like a good option before finally figuring out what to do with his life. He took a deep breath, the breeze and smell of the sea was something intrinsic to his very being, he found that the sea in Blackwater Bay smelled differently than the Jade Sea, _mayhaps it had to with the fact that the former one is much calmer? _He'd have to ask Stannis if he really wanted to know, despite the fact that he had been knighted a few years ago Stannis never truly ceased to be a mentor for him, if not in combat then in what he called '_philosophy_' or the spirited discussions that made everyone who was present think about how they saw the world and if their conjectures were correct and while these evenings were fun, Aurane would say that one could only expound about the meaning of life for so long before getting the urge to take one's own.

His reverie was broken by a loud bellow of, "_**Ship ho!**_", and Aurane withdrew the myrish eye he had purchased in the city of the same name to be able to make out it's features at this distance. The ship was a galley of that he was sure, it had green and white sails and its hull looked stripped. He immediately made his way to Stannis' solar on the ship, it could be pirates and Stannis always wanted to be warned if they were going to be engaging in combat.

The captain's solar was not as sparsely decorated as it had been at the beginning. Now apart from a table, a bookshelf and a hammock it also displayed nick-knacks from all over the world, including the potions that Stannis had learned to brew in Asshai and several weapons of a strange make that he had purchased in Yi-Ti. The aforementioned man was sitting behind a table along with Ser Davos, a man he also considered a mentor, but in the ways of sailing rather than combat, both men were pouring over a map seemingly trying to decide on the course they should take in order to reach Volantis as quickly as possible.

"My Lords", he began to get their attention, and they both looked up, Davos with his easy smile and Stannis with his alert yet impassive face. "A ship has been sighted…", he went on to describe the ship's features Ser Davos' face morphed to one of recognition while Stannis' features were thoughtful.

"_Nevermore, Nevermore, Nevermore_", interjected the raven unhelpfully after he'd finished speaking.

"Pardon me milords.", Ser Davos began, his melodic flee bottom accent resonating in an odd way around the cramped cabin, "I think that's the '_Valyrian_', it's a ship that belongs to a friend from my old smuggling days, would it be alright if we parley with him, he'll likely have news from home.", the final part of his sentence was what finally convinced Stannis to agree to talk to the Pirates as Davos went on to explain that the ship was most likely captained by a Salladhor Saan, the self-styled King of the Narrow Sea and that he possessed some measure of honor, if only honor among thieves.

And so, it was that they raised the flag of truce and a gaunt old man wearing colorful fatigues came aboard the '_Black Bessie_', getting horrifically drunk with Lord Stannis and Ser Davos, they spoke about anything and everything of note that had occurred on both sides of the Narrow Sea, apparently Lord Stannis' younger brother Renly had in fact been made Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and was betrothed to the slightly older Delenna Florent, but after King Robert deflowered her, the betrothal was canceled. When he heard this Stannis sighed with both regret and satisfaction as in, he regretted the way his brothers were making fools of themselves without him present, but he was very glad at the same time of no longer being responsible for cleaning up their messes. Another interesting bit of news was that the Greyjoy's had rebelled but were summarily defeated.

"Imagine that", Stannis had sarcastically drawled when Salladhor first gave him the news, but surprisingly he sobered up immediately and asked, "And what of Euron Greyjoy?"

Salladhor blinked his drunkenness away momentarily, "You mean the Crow's Eye?", Stannis nodded slowly and beckoned for the Old Pirate to continue speaking, "Last I heard he's been sighted over the Axe Isle in Sothoryos, but what does it matter?"

Apparently it did matter to Stannis very much, because as soon as he heard that the Greyjoy was the first known person to sail to the ruins of Old Valyria and come back alive he immediately saw Salladhor Saan off the ship, apologizing for the hasty dismissal, but saying he wanted a cloak of Kraken-hide to go with the fatigues he purchased in Yi-Ti, something which had made the Lyseni Pirate laugh uproariously and take no offence. Stannis had then ordered that the ship change course for Astapor in Slaver's Bay, though only Qyburn and Qarro were made privy to the reason why he had ordered this.

**A/N**

**Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter, as always please leave a review if you did. I'll try to address some of your questions in the order I found them;**

**He wasn't officially banished, but he wouldn't have gotten the resources of the Stormlands anyway, he would've gotten Dragonstone and the houses of Cracklaw point, but honestly, he could do better founding a Sell-Sword company as proven by (F)Aegon when he used the Golden Company to take Storm's End.**

**He will take a wife and sire an heir eventually, but keep in mind that no King during the War of the Five Kings has an heir besides their younger brothers, so it's a non-issue.**

**I will eventually do some chapters showing the perspectives of the important Lords in Westeros.**

**He wants Bloodraven dead because he believes in the fan theory that Brynden Rivers secretly takes control of Bran while he's training him to be the three-eyed Raven and then does his utmost to install himself as King.**


	8. Chapter VII

**Qarro II**

Astapor was remarkably similar to the city of New Ghis, but not in a good way. While New Ghis held magnificent temples and examples of the Architecture that marked the length and breadth of Essos thanks to the Ghiscari Empire, Astapor held mostly ugly spartan square buildings made of the same Red Stone, which according to legend was just regular Sandstone that had been dyed with the blood of countless slaves. Qarro Volentin didn't put much stock in tall-tales like that. He had been taught better by both his upbringing at home and his service under Stannis that people often made such myths up to cover for their own ignorance, but seeing 8000 Unsullied on proud display in the aptly named Plaza of Pride, Qarro could almost viscerally sense that it was truly the case.

"The Unsullied are no ordinary men, for they do not fear death.", one of the 'good masters' by the name of Kraznys mo Nakloz was saying in his heavily accented Valyrian in response to a question Qyburn had posed, though what it was Qarro couldn't have recounted as he wasn't paying enough attention.

"Tell me of their training.", Stannis had said simply, and he could vaguely see the slaver bristle at Stannis' rudeness, which unlike his usual polite curtness was actually tinged with distaste for the man, a distaste which most of the men currently accompanying Stannis shared the source of which for most was that slavery was forbidden by the seven, and in Qarro's case one need only look at the history of Braavos to know why he held the practice in contempt, unlike most men however he knew the real reason they were here and he was constantly on alert to receive the signal that he and Stannis had agreed upon.

Once the slaver had finished his explanation the group stopped at a small terrace that overlooked the plaza and he was bade to sit down by the good masters who were accompanying Kraznys. They all did as asked and as soon as his ass touched the chair several slaves poured out from under the stairs like rats, some of them waiving fans to keep what was frankly the intolerable heat of Slaver's Bay from discomforting them and some came with drinks of what he could vaguely taste as Orange juice mixed with some sort of wine, it was quite good Qarro found and briefly thought that it may be the one good thing to come from this city.

"So, Lord Stannis, how many do you wish to buy?", one of the other master's whose name Qarro couldn't be bothered to remember asked Stannis, and Qarro began to finger the pommel of his sword in preparation for the signal he knew was about to come soon.

"All of them, even the ones in training.", Stannis said curtly, his face as serious as ever. Qarro found the rapid change of emotions that the Slavers experienced after Stannis had said this very amusing indeed. They went from being shocked to laughing uproariously at what they assumed was a jape to incredulity when they noticed that Stannis' expression had not shifted at all, with the exception of a bemused eyebrow, the same kind a Maester would show a child when they failed to believe that Dragons had in fact existed or that the planet was contrary to initial appearances, round.

"You couldn't possibly…", one of the men began, a fat man with the traditional ghiscari features and a large forked beard that had large splashes of the same drink Qarro had in hand soaking through it. Stannis raised a hand to forestall any of the objections that he was sure were on their way, a gesture which almost never failed to quiet a noisy room down, whether they owed Stannis any measure of deference or not. Stannis snapped his fingers in a commanding gesture, the noise resonating throughout the plaza and two Knights that had come with them on the voyage who were also wearing their armors emblazoned with the traditional Baratheon colors for this occasion walked up to the center of their seating area with a chest that was far wider than it was tall. One of them sent a questioning look to Stannis who merely nodded in approval.

The chest opened with the characteristic clicking sound of a key unlocking a hefty Westerosi lock and when it did the slaver's eyes nearly bugged out. Inside were seven dragon eggs, some were mildly damaged, but they were dragon eggs nonetheless, or at least that's what the slavers would've thought. Qarro however, knew that they were forgeries, after all he had helped Stannis and Qyburn procure the materials to produce them in the journey leading up to Astapor.

The slavers had begun arguing in their bastardized Ghiscari-Valyrian that was even more well on its way to becoming its own language than even the low-Valyrian and they had done it with such a speed that Qarro could no longer make heads or tails of what they were saying. "This is an… enticing offer.", one of the slavers said in barely intelligible Westerosi common, "but my colleagues are still unsure if we should accept them or not, or if the eggs are real for that matter."

Stannis shrugged easily, his expression not wavering at all, "Then by all means have them appraised, and take all the time you need to consider, but I'm afraid with or without them we must leave within the week."

The slavers fears that the eggs were not the genuine article seemed assuaged with that statement and Qarro struggled to suppress a smirk at his Lord's excellent mummery, "That will not be necessary…", he settled for saying an expression of greed flashing across his eyes as he looked at the dragon eggs.

"…, but you must understand, the untrained ones will bring shame upon Astapor.", one of the more reluctant slavers interjected and Stannis turned to him the a mild glare that cowed the man for a moment, "If half of what I've heard about their training is true then I'm sure they'll serve their purpose, do not worry, shame is the last thing that will befall your city after this purchase.", the way Stannis had said this made the hairs attack the back of Qarro's neck stand as stiffly as the Unsullied in the yard, but the masters heard only what they wanted to hear.

They began to argue fiercely among themselves once again and after about 15 minutes of the original master who had greeted them when they arrived and announced they wanted to make this purchase, Kraznys mo Nakloz, walked up to them again, holding his togar awkwardly so it wouldn't fall and his long beard stained with what looked like wine and cranberry juice.

"Very well Lord Stannis, we accept this bargain.", he said holding out a hand with a golden whip, similar to the one the statue of the harpies that decorated the city held. Stannis accepted with a gracious smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, he walked to the edge of the balcony where they were sitting and he glanced back at the slavers with an eager expression, that of a child who wanted to receive a certain nameday present. Slaves were carting away the chest filled with dragon eggs as Stannis asked, "So, I own them now?"

Some of the slavers rolled their eyes at the '_stupid foreigner_', "Yes my lord, as we said, they will obey any command you give them.", one of them answered.

Stannis let out a low chuckle at the answer, "Unsullied, I command you to sack the great city of Astapor, kill any man with a whip and free any man in chains.", Stannis' sharp orders in crisp High-Valyrian cut through the excited mumblings of the masters like a hot knife through butter. Their faces blanched instantly, but most of them didn't even hear the order in its entirety as in the instant that Stannis raised his newly acquired whip, Qarro unsheathed his sword and began hacking his way through the ranks of the fat masters.

The slave army did as the masters had advertised and soon the red stone gained an extra shade of color, not through the blood of slaves, but rather through the blood of its masters. Ser Aurane was gaping at Stannis as he sat back down to enjoy the remainder of the drink that had been poured out for him.

"You planned that.", Ser Davos whispered breathlessly, the sentiment was true enough, in one broad stroke Stannis had gained what was arguably the best trained army in Essos, sacked a city that hadn't fallen since the days of Old Valyria and probably even gained some good will with the gods that most Westerosi kept to for freeing the slaves.

"I did.", Stannis said curtly before pausing for a moment as his gaze flicked over all of them mercilessly, "You disapprove?", he asked emotionlessly as was his norm.

"N-no, no.", Aurane quickly said, "It's just… a _slave_ army?", Stannis snorted derisively, "I plan to free them after the city is secure, obviously.", this softened the stares that his Lord had received and the image of the Stannis that the crew had had of him gradually began to shift from that of a mysterious and stern, but extremely fair and capable father figure to that of a man who refrained from walking on water only because it would get his boots wet.

After the sack had been completed most of the freed slaves including the Unsullied gathered in the square once again. Stannis gave a powerful speech on the tyranny of the slavers and how through this deed the Unsullied had become the real lock-step legions of Old Ghis as they were now made up of free men, some of the more slow-witted ones took while to understand what he meant by this, but the message was sent loud and clear when Stannis tossed the whip he had been given by Kraznys into a brazier.

The now free men banged their spears on the ground in approval, some of the slaves were even holding their hands up in his direction and chanting, "Kepa! Kepa! Kepa!", or 'Father' in the low-Valyrian of slavers bay over and over again. He waited a moment for them to quiet down and said that any former slave was free to do as they pleased but added that any man who could fight would be able to find a place in his army and that their next stop was Yunkai. Needless to say, all of the Unsullied chose to stay with Stannis and almost the entirety of the crew was howling their approval at this unexpected, but great victory.

**Davos IV**

Lord Stannis, Qyburn, Qarro, Ser Aurane and Davos himself quietly marched up a hill that gave them an excellent view over Yunkai, the yellow city. Davos snorted internally, yellow was right, if Astapor's bricks looked like they had been painted by the blood of their slaves then Yunkai's looked like it had been sullied by hundreds of years' worth of their piss. Qyburn had quietly japed as much in the genial way that was his wont and Stannis had chuckled mirthfully when he heard it, though he added that since the city was mostly known for its bed slaves that it should be painted white instead of yellow, something that had made most of the men with him at the time (with the exception of his new personal guard of Unsullied) blush quite a bit.

Speaking of them Ser Davos found them to be a little… unnerving. They were obedient to a fault and despite the fact that they were wearing armor they seemed to make less noise than a well-trained catspaw and he should know, he had known quite a few of them in his youth after all…

"Our chances of taking Yunkai?", Stannis asked quietly, though his voice carried enough so that all men the question was intended for could hear, including Red Beetle, the man or more accurately the eunuch who the Unsullied had selected to be their commander and Stannis had quickly taken him into his confidence because of this fact. Ser Davos wisely stayed quiet at this point, he was a sailor and while he had some experience with sieges what with sneaking past the blockade at Storm's End and helping take Dragonstone, he was still hardly an expert at this subject and he had learned by now to refrain from giving unnecessary advice, in fact it was probably the second thing one would learn after entering Stannis' service, the first being the unspoken two rules one would gleam after following his seemingly non-sensical orders for any length of time; "_Stannis is never wrong_" and "_If he is wrong, back to the first rule_."

Qarro let out a snort of contempt in answer causing Stannis to shift his ice-cold stare from the harpy on top of the pyramid to the Braavo, who shrugged helplessly and said, "It's like the old man says, they make bedwarmers, not soldiers, we'll massacre them on the field.", Qyburn conceded the point with a nod, but Ser Aurane let out a pained sigh,

"But they won't meet us on the field, they have provisions, patience and strong walls.", he began, and Stannis nodded, both in approval and beckoning him to continue, "If they're wise, they'll hide behind their walls and chip away at us slowly."

"You're right.", Stannis said preventing the argument that was surely about to break out, "We don't have the men to take Yunkai, not without sustaining intolerable losses at least, not to mention we won't be able to hold it before Meereen tries to take it back.", he sighed as everyone mulled his words over.

"Red Beetle", Stannis barked out sharply breaking everyone out of their respective reveries, it wouldn't be accurate to say that the Unsullied straightened at his name being called so suddenly by their commander as his posture was already immaculate, but Davos could definitely sense that some tension had come to those finely trained muscles of his.

"Send a man to the city gates.", Stannis said in his heavily accented low-Valyrian of Slaver's Bay, "Tell the slavers I will receive them in camp and accept their surrender. Otherwise Yunkai will suffer the same fate as its neighbor."

Red Beetle nodded curtly in acknowledgement and went to fulfill his task. Qarro smiled wanly at Stannis and insolently said, "I thought you said we couldn't win.", Stannis smirked briefly and answered, "No, I said we couldn't take the city, I never said we couldn't win.", what that meant exactly was left for Stannis' inner circle to mull over, because as soon as he said this he began making his way back to his tent, his ten Unsullied guardsmen following him around the moment he took his first step.

**Aurane IV**

The Unsullied stood rigidly at attention as one of the 'Wise Masters' of Yunkai made his way through the rudimentary camp the army had set up the day before. He was heralded by what was presumably one of his household slaves beating a drum and to no one's surprise whatsoever he showed up with an entire retinue of chained slaves who were carrying his palanquin, probably in order to remind the Unsullied of their place, though given the fact that Stannis had treated them like free men and had on several occasions reminded them that that was their new status it probably wouldn't be as effective as the slaver would've hoped.

The palanquin eventually reached the wide entrance of the tent Stannis had ordered set up for this meeting, where he sat resplendent on a large cushion that had been looted from one of the master's homes in Astapor. The slaver stepped out of his palanquin with what Aurane had to reluctantly admit was actual gracefulness, his blue tokar worked well with his ghiscari features and he walked with a poise that wouldn't be out of place in Westerosi court. A herald announced him as soon as his foot touched the ground.

"Now comes the noble Razdan no Eraz of the same ancient and honorable house, Master of Men and Speaker to Savages, to offer terms of peace.", the same slave that was beating the drum bellowed out with intensity that belied or perhaps confirmed his status.

"You come before Lord Stannis Baratheon, Prince of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Breaker of Chains and Warlock of Storm's End.", Ser Davos Seaworth said in turn with perfect low-Valyrian that he had spent the entire day practicing for this occasion. Razdan nodded at him and Stannis, with both acknowledgement and unmistakable contempt.

"Please, make yourself comfortable.", Stannis said as one of the Baratheon men-at-arms who had withstood the siege alongside Stannis pulled up a fairly nice wooden stool for the slaver to take a seat. He did as Stannis asked though the glare, he directed at Stannis from the beginning did not waver in its intensity. '_Joke's on him_', Aurane thought, beating Stannis at a glaring contest was something that only Tywin Lannister would possibly be able to do.

They both stared at each other, a monumental battle of wills ensuing between the Stag and the Slaver, neither man refusing to talk force and therefore give up a perceived advantage. It went on like this for a few seconds until Matthos Seaworth, Ser Davos' son and Stannis' new squire brought him a goblet filled with fruit juice, Stannis despised drinking wine during negotiations.

"Will the noble Razdan not take refreshments?", Stannis asked with a slight smirk, and the slaver's glare intensified briefly before softening just as quickly as he nodded in the affirmative so Matthos poured him a goblet of a fine Dornish Red they still had on hand. Both men sipped at their drinks momentarily until Razdan finally broke the deafening silence that was building in the tent, "Ancient and Glorious is the city of Yunkai", the man began, "Our empire was old before the Andals arrived in your home, many an army was broken against our walls, you shall not find an easy conquest here.", he finished.

Stannis smiled at him, it was not a nice smile, "That's good, my Unsullied need practice, I was told to blood them early."

"If blood is your desire, then you shall have it, but why?", he asked though it was more rhetorical than genuinely curious, "It is true you have committed atrocities in Astapor, but we are a forgiving and generous people.", he clapped his hands when he said this and two slaves of his retinue brought forth two chests, which opened with a creak to reveal a large cache of gold.

"The Wise Masters of Yunkai have sent a gift for the Andal Prince. There is far more than this awaiting you on the deck of your ship."

"Yes, there is", Stannis said matter-of-factly, "though I doubt '_The Black Betha_' is the ship you're referring to."

Razdan chuckled ruefully, "No, the Wise Masters have seen fit to gift you as many ships as you require."

"And what do you ask in return?", Stannis asked immediately.

"Only that you put them to good use in sailing away from here and leave us to conduct our affairs in peace.", Razdan answered with a small, but satisfied smile of a man who knew he had won.

Stannis seemed to mull it over for a moment, before extending a hand to the slaver, "A bargain well struck.", the slaver shook it tentatively, but Stannis continued, "In return for the ships I swear upon my honor as a Baratheon that I shall never set foot in Slaver's Bay by my own volition again."

The latter seemed to greatly satisfy the slaver, "A bargain well struck indeed.", he looked relived now and summoned one of his slaves to wipe the sweat that had built up on his forehead. Aurane understood the feeling well, he had after all argued with Stannis before he took him on as a squire and he knew by now that it was an exhausting affair.

Some men, notably the Unsullied looked vaguely displeased at this outcome, but Aurane understood it perfectly, they had achieved their initial objective in its entirety without losing a single soldier and now they had one of the largest purely military fleets and most well trained armies, which could be brought to bear in the Summer Sea in order to hunt down Euron Greyjoy. He shook his head, Stannis was a soldier, but he was also a born schemer the likes of which only showed up every century, he felt fortunate to be able to learn from him as much as he had, and he hoped he could continue to do so.

Aurane later found himself being named the captain of one of the ships that the Wise Masters had provided Stannis, who had named the ship '_The Lady Cassana_' in honor of his mother. He smelled the fresh sea air, contemplating how far he'd come in these last few years. His dream had always been to be a captain of his own ship, he had achieved that much and more, going to the edge of the world, being knighted, taking two places that hadn't fallen in thousands of years and he had the most disciplined crew a man could reasonably ask for. He breathed in again and when he exhaled, he quietly said, "_This is the life._"

"Alright men!", he bellowed and the Unsullied turned to him, standing in perfect attention as always, "We set a course for Sothoryos!"

**A/N**

**Hey guys hoped you enjoyed this chapter, that's right, Stannis just completely stole Daenerys' shtick and even a part of her title, we'll see how this makes butterflies in the future. At any rate, as always pleased leave a review if you're feeling generous and I'll try to address some of your concerns in the order I personally found them in;**

**True, he could make his home in Essos, but frankly it's still a shit-show just in different ways and there he doesn't have a birthright and he can't really predict the future, but don't worry he does have a back-up plan and it's the same one any one of us would have in this situation, namely load up a ship with a lot of gold and make for the Summer Isles.**

**I'm still considering his marriage options, but it'll have to be someone in Westeros, he'll already be seen as too 'foreign' when he arrives and marrying locally is the easiest way to strengthen ties, not to mention the Rogare family can only offer him gold and he now has quite a lot of that.**

**Yes, I believe Orell mentions that if you warg inside another human you lose the power, but he doesn't specify what happens if you warg into someone who can also do it and quite frankly I believe this theory holds a lot of water by just how cunty Brynden Rivers is.**

**Yes Stannis vs. Euron, who will win?**

**Rune Magic is a Children of the Forrest thing and it kind of went extinct with them, while eastern sorcerers definitely know about it not even Melisandre really knows how it works.**

**Crash Course will have to suffice until he meets his definite teacher.**

**A Westerosi Interlude is on its way.**

**Thank you all for your very kind words, you are what makes this story worth writing.**


	9. Chapter VIII

**Aurane V**

It was remarkably eerie sailing in the waters of Sothoryos, Aurane had found, and being one of the few Velaryons who had ever been to Asshai and come back to live to tell that tale, meant that when he called a place creepy that was saying something. Stannis had ordered the fleet to split up into several squadrons in order to effectively organize their attack on the Basilisk Isles, he suspected that Euron Greyjoy's ship, _Silence_, was either docked in the harbor of one of them or would soon return to the markets of Barter Beach on Talon Island or perhaps the brothels and taverns of the Ax Isle where he had been sighted by Salladhor Saan.

It was fortuitous then that the fleet Stannis had gained belonged to the Ghiscari Slavers, they were usually not harassed by pirates in these parts as more often than not they were their clients for slaves captured in the Summer Isles. The offensive was planned in detail when the fleet had docked in Skull Island, a well-deserved name as the entire barren landmass was littered with the bones of people the pirates had executed, as sort of warning sign for invaders, _invaders that we now are_, Aurane thought with no small amounts of resignation.

He wasn't scared of pirates, oh no, he had dealt with plenty of them both during his youth in Driftmark and during this voyage, but he was absolutely terrified of Sothoryos and why wouldn't he be? Stannis had expounded on and carefully explained each of the dangers the Dark Continent could very well bring to bear on their army of bronze capped soldiers. A good example was that the Isles they were invading were named after Basilisks, in other words Lizard Lions that could eat a man whole, though few now populated them as the pirates have killed most of them. There were other animals of course, some even more deadly like giant apes that could kill an elephant with one punch and bats that could suck the blood out of a man in seconds. What scared him the most however were the cannibals which had thrown Nymeria's Rhoynar out of the continent and the diseases which one could gain. Stannis had explained all of these dangers to the army's officers those being, Ser Davos, Red Beetle and Aurane himself and had even given them a few counter-measures that he had devised along with Qyburn, seemingly foolish things like washing wounds with Firewine from Myr, digging very deep latrines in camps and boiling water before drinking it. The Westerosi crew that had come with them scoffed at these measures, but after serving in close proximity with Stannis for so long Aurane knew better and the Unsullied were so accustomed to obedience that they would fight while hopping on one foot if Stannis ordered them to, so the measures would be applied.

Aurane took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the ship's railing where he was leaning, "_it does me no good to dwell on things not even present on the island we'll be landing on._", he thought and instead settled for going over the strategy in his head once again. The plan revolved around using a mixture of pitch, tree resin, charcoal and saltpeter that Qyburn and Stannis had brewed during their thankfully very brief stay on Skull Island, the concoction would according to Stannis have similar effects to wildfire but would be perfectly safe to transport. Ser Aurane having been present for the substance's use during the reign of Mad Aerys had cause to doubt, but he did his duty anyway and the Unsullied under his command could've cared less about death, though some were quite eager to put down more slavers by burning them alive.

Their overall strategy was basically to set as many ships on fire while they were docked and have the Unsullied free every slave and kill every pirate on the Island where they landed. It was almost insultingly simple to be honest, but Aurane had found that while Stannis was quite obviously a master strategist that he often tried to keep plans as simplistic as possible, sighting two great Valyrian philosophers when explaining his approach to strategy, a so-called Lord Murphy, who once said "_Everything that can go wrong will go wrong in the most inopportune moment"_, and a Lord Moltke, who famously said, "_No plan survives contact with the enemy_." They were both pessimistic statements to be sure, but Stannis had taken them to heart, and they had obviously worked wonders for him, so Aurane had attempted to internalize them as well.

He took another deep breath to center himself, the night sky was clear and there was a full moon, which gave his squadron perfect vision in order to launch an all-out attack on the east of the island, but the downside was that the watchmen would see his fleet approaching as well. He counted backwards from ten in his head and auspiciously when his lucky number four was reached, bells on the Island, presumably to warn the pirates on it, began to ring, he tightened his features grimly, in what would've passed as an excellent impersonation of Stannis to an outside observer.

"Orders, sir?", the heavily accented common tongue of one of the Unsullied who went by the name of Sharp Spear sounded next to him with the curt military efficiency that all of the man's brethren seemed to have. He briefly considered what he should do in this situation and images of the landing on Dragonstone immediately flashed in his mind.

"The pirate scum is welcoming us with a moonlight serenade, answer them in kind, drums.", he barked out the order simply and not a second later it was repeated in low-Valyrian at a much louder volume than what his lungs were capable of producing. Soon the war-drums of his squadron resounded along the east of Talon Island.

"Create a perimeter", he began, Sharp Spear listening to him with rapt attention, "Do not approach the harbor until the fires have died out and speaking of which begin firing the pots of 'Baratheon Fire' with the catapults on my mark."

The orders were once again repeated in a louder volume, the resulting clanking noises of the catapults being loaded intermixed with that of the drums momentarily drowned out the sound of the waves crashing unto the shore. The catapults flung the pots unto the ships, some hit the water, but even still…

**Davos IV**

He didn't know how many men had fallen to his blade since the day had begun, the ships under both himself and Lord Stannis had gathered around the busy market of Barter Beach a place he was reluctant to say he had visited when he was younger, but still, the fact that he had was enough for him to provide Stannis with the locations of the lookout towers and he had a few Baratheon men-at-arms land further south of the market and try to take them by force. It had apparently worked wonders because the pirates and slavers didn't even notice their fleet until their ships were burning like firewood thanks to the '_Baratheon Fire_', as the men were now calling it, that Stannis and Qyburn had concocted. "_And what a truly terrifying thing it was!",_ he mused with a large amount of genuine awe.

Ser Davos was one of the many men who had come on the voyage and had witnessed the devastation that Stannis' magic wrought on the forces of the Reach, but he had never expected to see something like that occur again within his lifetime. It wasn't quite as terrifying as the noxious yellow miasma Stannis had unleashed during the siege of Storm's End, but there was something about fire burning on water that howled at the instincts of every human being who saw it. The fire gave one the sense that Stannis was taking the laws that the gods had set for this world and wiping his ass with them, which in a certain way he most certainly was. Not that Davos would complain in this case, they were after all fighting people who had flaunted the laws of both gods and men and Stannis' magic certainly made the endeavor of bringing them to justice much easier.

He was broken out of his musings by a loud crash as the pirates once again attempted to smash into the lines of the Unsullied shield wall but were repelled for the nth time. He was actually tempted to outright laugh in their faces. Unsullied were primarily known for repelling three Dothraki charges without flinching and these undisciplined drunkards thought they could best them? He shook his head with a rueful smile and reflected that if Qarro and Ser Aurane hadn't taught him the basics of sword fighting that he'd likely be shitting his breeches rather than gloating and instead decided to be gracious in victory by taking his opponents seriously as they were not unskilled fighters, they were just terrible soldiers, a difference Stannis had taught all of his men very well indeed.

The Unsullied pushed against their opponents with their shield wall once again, the pirates in front of them stumbled and in that instant in a feat of incredible coordination they raised their shields harshly in an upward angle smacking their opponents in the face, momentarily dazing them and they proceeded to stab them with their shortswords.

The lines of the Pirates collapsed with that last futile charge and they ran into the streets of the shanty town with buildings made out of mud and blood, they ran so fast and far that Davos was tempted to send a Raven to Ser Aurane warning him that the pirates on his end of the Island were about to receive reinforcements, no matter how meager and haggard they were.

"Alright lads form up!", he bellowed in his best ship captain's voice, which according to Stannis was interchangeable with a battlefield commander's voice if it was loud enough. The Unsullied ignored him as he wasn't their designated commander, but the Baratheon men-at-arms turned at him sharply and stood at attention.

"The Unsullied under Red Beetle are going to chase this scum to the seventh hell and back.", he began and paused when his men let out a raucous cheer, "that doesn't mean you lazy sons of whores have no work though", there were some good natured chuckles and grumblings at this from the men who were now seasoned sailors, "Lord Stannis has given us the task of freeing all the slaves that these men captured, Ser Rodger, take ten men and go scout the cages on the beach…"

**Euron I**

The Silence could outrun any ship on the open ocean, the operative word in that sentence being open. He had barely had time to bark out orders to his crew to flee when he saw the flames engulf the ships next to his own. He began sailing away from the harbor when a Westerosi war ship that dwarfed his Iron Islands long-ship violently crashed into what was once his cabin. The splintering of the wood alerting him to this because the night sky had turned a few shades darker due to the heavy amounts of smoke that was rising into the harbor.

The invaders had not stood idly by either, almost immediately after stalling the Silence's escape they began to board his ship by swinging unto his deck using ropes they had attached to their own larger war-galley. He recognized their bronze capped crew well-enough, hell, he had even owned some Unsullied himself at one point, but they were not cut out for combat at sea as these fresh new corpses on his deck quite effectively demonstrated. Well, they probably didn't expect their opponent to have an axe and armor made out of Valyrian steel. He grinned ferociously under his helmet, though the gesture was lost because no one was currently looking.

He charged at a small group of the boarders and began wildly hacking away at them with his Axe, most pivoted away successfully, but the poor bastard who caught the blow on his shield suddenly found both that shield, and the arm splintered. To his credit, or Euron supposed their trainer's credit, the man didn't even flinch as he dropped his spear and drew his short-sword with his good arm and attempted to stab him in the stomach. The blade was good castle-forged steel, though at that angle it broke apart when it was thrust against the ancient plate of the Dragonlords, Euron would've laughed if it didn't mean he would lose concentration in a potentially dangerous situation and instead settled for shifting the position of his axe right into the offender's skull, his space sported a smile at the satisfying crack of bone and squelching of grey-matter that his action caused.

A small clang alerted him to another combatant who was presumably seeking his head, though the sound was so miniscule he could've been forgiven for thinking it was a bee buzzing incessantly next to his helmet. He turned around sharply swinging his axe to deprive the attacker of his head but found the man an extremely nimble swordsmen as he vaulted out of the way in an impressive feat of acrobatics.

He examined the man more closely and grinned, "Braavosi, a sword as wide as your cock and a hundred times as long has no hope of piercing my armor.", he settled for saying after noticing the fighting style of his opponent. Though after saying so he had to swat quite a few blows that were aimed at the small opening of his helmet and he had to begrudgingly concede that his opponent was indeed very good.

"I am Qarro Volentin, First Sword to Lord Stannis Baratheon", the man with the characteristic accent of Braavos said between strikes, "and you will be speaking to me with more respect."

Euron would've raised a bemused eyebrow had his helmet not completely obscured the gesture from view, so instead he said what was on his mind, "If this is about our little rebellion you should know that my brother banished me a few years ago…"

Qarro didn't answer and instead continued his volley of strikes, never letting up for a moment, though despite this Euron's patience was wearing thin and he waited for the opportune moment as the Braavo thrust his sword to once again try and stab him in the eye, he raised and mailed hand and caught it deftly before it could reach its intended target. Stannis' first sword was taken aback momentarily, but a moment was all it took for Euron to relive the errant swordsman of his head.

He let out a primal roar of pure satisfaction at the worthy opponent having died by his hand. It was because of this that he almost missed the equally loud roar of pure unadulterated rage emanating from a few paces back, he turned around to see a young man of about twenty years deftly wielding a war axe similar to his own, though it was not made of Valyrian steel. He charged at the Greyjoy Corsair with the rage of a man who had something invaluable taken from him.

The Greyjoy smirked, the angrier his opponents got the easier it was to defeat them and soon the Silence would be firmly his again. He quickly batted aside the clumsy, but powerful attacks and buried his own axe in the man's chest. Staining the Onion that the knight had taken for his sigil red with his blood. He could at least appreciate the fact that the Greenlander decided to wear armor, not many sailors were that brave…

He pulled his axe out of the man's chest and it was just in time to block a blow coming from his right by a bastard sword, wielded by a man who was much taller than even most brindled men. He was very strong too and it took almost all the strength and experience Euron had not to fall on his ass and give the man a potential opening. It was then he scrutinized the man more closely, he wore a helmet that left most of his face uncovered, which meant that his sapphire blue eyes were clearly visible even in the dark. It was then that he noticed two thing that clearly gave the identity of his attacker away, the first was the fact that his bastard sword was apparently made out of Valyrian steel, the first real threat he had experienced in a long time, the second thing was that his armor was covered with a yellow cloak, embossed on it was a rearing black stag.

"_Stannis Baratheon_", he thought with a moment of genuine jubilation, not because he was excited to see the man, hells from what he'd heard of him not even his close family would've been, but because he was a capable enough commander to understand that a clash like this could be easily resolved by cutting off the metaphorical head of the sneak and that was precisely what the Crow's Eye began to try.

It was more difficult than he'd anticipated, despite being in full plate armor the man moved as quickly and with a sureness of foot that had only been equaled by the Braavosi he'd fought a few seconds prior. The clanging of two Valyrian Steel weapons produced a brilliant sound, bastard sword clashing against war axe. The sparks that flew of them alone would be something Euron would never forget.

As the fight progressed, neither combatant truly making any headway time seemed to stop for the Greyjoy. He briefly considered the notion that the fighting had as well, that the crews of both ships were staring in awe at the two figures fighting with legendary weapons, not to mention that the figures were arguably legends in their own right by now. A fierce clang resounded when the two weapons met in the center of both combatants, both clenching their teeth to gain an edge in this fierce battle that was as much about strength as it was about wills.

Euron smirked, a gesture that his opponent noticed and going by his expression was extremely worried by. The reason for this would soon be made clear as the Crow's Eye brought the glob of spit he'd been forming in his mouth to bear and spit it out with force at the Baratheon's face, he flinched back from the unexpected 'hit', this provided an excellent opening for Euron as he brought his war axe down on the man's chest.

Stannis let out a howl of pain as the Valyrian steel sheared through his armor and possibly his ribs as well, hacking coughs gave way to blood that marred his otherwise impeccably white teeth. The Greyjoy howled with laughter at his accomplishment but paused when he heard his fallen foe struggling to say something. He figured it would be much to cunty even for him not to listen to the last words of perhaps the worthiest foe he'd ever had the displeasure of facing so he bent down to hear what he had to say.

"Y-you", Stannis managed to croak out, more coughs distorting his gravelly voice and the Greyjoy had to strain his hearing even more to make out what he was trying to say, "you, should've gone for the h-head.", those were the last words the Crow's Eye heard before a Valyrian steel sword was plunged inside the eye that had granted him his nickname.

**A/N**

**Hope you guys enjoyed the Stannis vs. Euron showdown and for those of you looking to see more of Sothoryos you don't have to worry, this will be the first of many chapters that take place in this continent. As for those who're looking forward to seeing the Westerosi Interlude this will only take place after he meets Melisandre so keep your eyes peeled for that. At any rate, please leave a review if you're feeling generous, they're what fuels my otherwise empty heart into writing this stuff for you guys, see you next time same bat-time, same bat-channel.**

**Some of your concerns:**

**The consequences of his enmity against Bloodraven will be shown soon**

**He'll be taking advantage of the nature of his position soon enough**

**He can already use alchemy to the same degree as a Wisdom in King's Landing and he knows the basics of other kinds of magic from his time in Asshai, but don't worry, he'll definitely be learning more as the story progresses.**

**Sincerely,**

**Digsjin**


	10. Chapter IX

**Stannis V**

I opened my eyes to a different landscape from the one I last remembered last being in, a different landscape to what anyone would ever see on Planetos, but it wasn't what I would call completely alien. The place seemed to be a large sewer, with walls and pipes made out of a metal that was highly corroded. It had water running through it, but it didn't smell like waste, to my surprise it actually smelled like seaweed, though not the rotting kind one usually smells at the beach, but rather the kind that was still green and used for sushi and other dishes. Yes, this looked suspiciously like the sewer where the Nine-Tailed Fox was chained up, which almost definitely meant…

My final thought was suddenly interrupted by the loud caw of a Raven, flying even deeper into the dark sewer, even so I recognized it's distinctive third eye. I sighed and completed my thought with large amounts of trepidation, "-_which means that I'm inside my mindscape and Brynden 'fucking' Rivers is here too."_

I made my way to follow the avatar of the three-eyed Raven, the splashing of water and the cawing of the Raven soon became my only guides as the tunnel was rapidly becoming darker and darker. During this I reflected on where I probably was in the waking world, I know I killed Euron while quoting Thanos of all people, but my survival was still a coin-toss and maybe this is the version of the Drowned God's Hell…

My thoughts continued to meander through more inane topics, such as why my mindscape was influenced by Naruto of all things and how the hell I was going to uplift Westeros without the potato, but I regained a semblance of urgency when it finally dawned on me that I wasn't freaking out at all despite the extremely precarious situation I currently found myself in, which meant that either my Mindscape can inherently keep me calm or that Bloodraven has achieved a degree of control over my mind that I really, really didn't want him to have, but it would do me no good to wonder about things that I can't prove or disprove, Hitchens's Razor came to mind, "_What can be asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.",_

I soon reached what appeared to be the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, though rather than a cage where a large furry creature was held captive I was greeted by the sight of a Raven, flying up a large, but manageably climbable flight of stairs that began with an equally large cherry-red Tori-Gate. I smiled wanly, and proceeded to make my way up the stairs, this being my Mindscape I didn't feel any fatigue despite the fact that I was probably mortally wounded and still wearing my armor in the waking world.

When I reached the summit, I was greeted by an absurd sight. Brynden Rivers, though not as the frail crippled old man roosting on a Spider that I knew him as, but as the dashing spymaster from the Dance of Dragons who hadn't even lost his eye yet. He was sitting on the opposite side of a table I also knew quite well. It was the one my friends and I used to play poker on every Saturday while I was in University, in a very pale imitation of the weekly games the crew of the Enterprise held, but it was a very fun pastime, nonetheless.

Despite the person sitting opposite it and the fact that he didn't understand its purpose, let alone its significance the sight brought back very fond memories and a ghost of a smile played at my lips.

I sat down and a large bean bag appeared to stop me from hitting the ground, Bloodraven raised an eyebrow at the fact that I apparently had nominal control over this place, but didn't say anything until he materialized two cups of tea on both ends of the table, he gestured for me to drink and I found the taste of the chamomile that he had probably drawn from my memories to be pleasantly refreshing and from the look on his face when he tried it, he did as well.

"So, here we stand", the young man with the old man's voice said. I searched for some clever quip, but it didn't come, so instead I settled for the safest answer anyone could possibly give in Westeros and gave him a respectful nod and mumbled, "Lord Commander.", technically he still was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch as he didn't resign, wasn't voted out and hadn't died, so I may as well use his official title.

He raised another eyebrow at the title's use, though this time it was in confusion rather than idle curiosity. "This is the most unique dreamscape I believe I've ever visited…", he finally settled for saying after an awkward silence.

"Truly?", I asked seemingly genuinely curious, "the sights may be strange, but I thought Euron's 'dreamscape' would've been horrific enough to leave a greater impression.", his eyebrows rose in surprise, though he schooled his features immediately. It didn't help though, this confirmed the theory that Crow's Eye used to be his student, if only for a short time. I sipped at my tea, which hadn't cooled off at all to mask the small smile I was sure was tugging at the corners of my mouth, due to the spymaster's slight slip-up.

"Yes, that it was", Bloodraven said peering at me like how an autistic guy with OCD would look at a jumbled-up Rubik's Cube, "-tell me, why do you desire my death?", he finally asked the million-dragon question. I just smiled and said, "Why do you desire the Iron Throne?" Realization slowly dawned on him, though whether that was good or bad for me I couldn't say.

"I can see why you'd think that, but I don't really desire anything, mostly I just live-", he began.

"-in the past, yes, yes, I've heard the little speech before, so tell me and be honest, why?", I finished for him. He scowled at being interrupted, quite funny on the face of what was in all honesty a very feminine looking albino with long silver hair, who was essentially wearing a gimp outfit, as in the Night's Watch leather uniform, minus the mask.

"Because it's what she would've wanted.", he begrudgingly volunteered.

"Shiera Seastar", I muttered barely loud enough for it to come across as a threatening whisper that would've made Roose Bolton proud, and a quote from old Georgie came to mind and I spoke it aloud as it did, "Bloodraven and Bittersteel both loved Shiera Seastar and the Seven Kingdoms bled."

He looked very angry for a moment, but he skipped over the last few stages of grief and his features quickly gave way to acceptance, "That they did, and I would make amends.", he finally answered.

"And coincidentally the way to make amends is to take what you've always wanted?", I answered skepticism and sarcasm were clearly evident in my tone. He tightened his grip on the armrest of his chair, his knuckles turning even more white from the pressure.

"It's not like that", he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Oh, then please do enlighten me.", I said pretending to feign my very real interest to piss him off even more. He smiled though he never eased the grip on his armrest and said, "Every King is either great or a disaster, there is no middle ground, if every King were a three-eyed Raven…"

He left the sentence hanging for me to pick up his thought. I smiled, though rather than the agreement he was probably expecting my features exuded pity. "Even a ruler who knows all of history is not perfect.", I began, and I could see he disagreed, though he was in fact paying very rapt attention.

"Every significant change in history is perpetrated by a change in rulers…", the speech I gave him was a long one, about how human progress has stagnated in Planetos, because no one has ever questioned the way people do things and everyone is comfortable with the status quo. I used Aegon's Conquest and The Doom of Valyria as examples of historical precedent for my argument but suffice it to say I think I turned Bloodraven into a Hegelian Historian when I explained Hegelian Dialectics. In the end he had to rethink his life for what felt like hours and both of us agreed on a plan for Westeros, which I won't spell out because that's literary tension 101, but suffice it to say that the conversation ended with him agreeing to take me on as his new student.

He was explaining the substances which can awaken magical potential before he realized that someone, presumably one of the Children of the Forest were trying to wake him up and when he acquiesced and left my mind my eyelids flew open and I woke up with a start.

I felt like I was just hit by a freight train, which considering the immense amount of pain in my chest was not exactly out of the question. I tried to sit up, though the pain forced an involuntary grunt out of me, and I fell back down on the fairly comfortable straw mattress with a plop. I tried to take in my surroundings, but they gave no particular indication of where I was, drab grey stone could've meant I was anywhere except Asshai.

"You shouldn't strain yourself too hard Lord Stannis", the placid grandfatherly voice, which I instantly recognized as belonging to Qyburn said from my right, "you've been sleeping for nigh a week now, it would be wise for you to continue resting…"

I acquiesced to the very reasonable demands with a grunt, it still hurt too much to speak properly so I didn't feel like wasting words, and I made myself comfortable on the bed as much as I possibly could, "Qarro?", I asked hesitantly and my voice came out hoarse from disuse, pain hammering where my wound was though I managed to push shook his head sadly, I frowned though whether it was noticeable through the grimace I was sporting from the pain or not I couldn't really say.

"He worshipped the many-faced god.", I began, "I don't think he would've cared what his funeral rites were, so tell Ser Rodger to give him a funeral in the light of the Seven, but with a particular focus on the Stranger.", Qyburn nodded attentively and scribbled down my orders, part of the reasons I was really glad I'd taken him into my service. Qarro was a good and more importantly a loyal friend, but he died the way he would've liked, fighting slavers and a worthy opponent to boot, besides I was honestly more worried about my own chances of survival to properly mourn for anyone else at this stage.

"Did Matthos Seaworth…?", I allowed myself to trail off, I had taken Davos' son as my squire, he was my responsibility and I'd failed him, Qyburn once again shook his head in his classic expression of sympathy, though the man was a psychopath and we both knew full well he didn't have any feelings at all one way or the other, even so I appreciated the courtesy.

"Get Ser Davos here.", I ordered simply

"My Lord", Qyburn began, "you need your rest…", I silenced him with one of my patented Mannis-glares, and he sighed with resignation and went to fetch my Onion Knight. The least I could do was look him in the eye and apologize for failing the responsibility the most trustworthy of my vassals had convened upon me.

It was around half an hour later that I heard the sound of footsteps making their way up the winding stairs of the small Watchtower that Qyburn had presumably commandeered as his sort-of field hospital on the Island, I blinked away the haziness probably brought about by the cheap Westerosi knock-off of morphine, aka. Milk of the Poppy. Ser Davos shuffled inside the small room, dressed in tattered unwashed sailors' clothes, I noticed his hair and beard looked even more unkempt than usual, though the characteristic redness of the eyes that would've indicated crying was for my purposes thankfully absent, though I didn't know why I was surprised, by modern standards his reaction to losing all of his sons during the Battle of the Blackwater in the books was almost callously tame, but that's the way the cookie crumbles in medieval times, I suppose.

"You requested my presence milord?", Davos said curtly, but not unkindly to my immense relief.

"Ser Davos", I said blearily, and his spine involuntarily straightened due to a pavlovian reflex I had long since ingrained into the entire crew that had come with me from Westeros, "your son was a good man and his loss is keenly felt by all who knew him." I wasn't good with consoling people, but Davos nodded along anyway, knowing me well enough to recognize that I was at least trying to make an effort and that I meant every word I said.

"You have my permission to have one of our Knights dub him posthumously if they're amenable, the lad deserved it, I'd do it myself, but…", the little jape of looking down at my bandaged chest as I said this seemed to take some of the tension out of the room as Davos snorted slightly before schooling his features once again.

"Tell me, what did we manage to recover from the hold of the _Silence_?", a spark of anger due to me evoking the name of Euron Greyjoy's ship made itself known in his eyes for a moment, but it passed as quickly as it came, and he began to breezily answer my question, "Lots of gold, spices and other random trinkets, some wooden bows, there were also two old bald men chained up in his cabin, but they were much too underfed to be roused and of course the Valyrian steel that the Crow's Eye sported…"

I held up a hand as the universal signal to stop talking and said, "Distribute the gold and spices as fair payment for our troops, try to recruit and train some of the freed slaves with some of it as incentive and keep the rest in our coffers, give the bows to our best archers-", Davos likely didn't know it, but these bows were almost definitely from the Summer Islands, meaning they could punch through plate armor easily, why wouldn't I give them to our best archers?, "- the two men, feed them and treat them amicably, but do not let them leave, keep the rest of the trinkets well-guarded", he nodded seriously recognizing the gravity of my order, "as for the Valyrian steel, I'm keeping the armor and the Ax… Well, on behalf of House Baratheon allow me to congratulate House Seaworth for joining the small Brotherhood of Westerosi Houses with a Valyrian Steel Weapon to their name."

Davos blinked owlishly at this, though I once again held up a hand to stop him from thanking me and merely said, "No thanks are necessary, it's fair payment for loyal service rendered, just make sure to get everything done before I'm healed up", I managed with a smile and Davos nodded determinedly setting off to complete his task, though Qyburn remained.

"Milk of the Poppy", I said curtly, and Qyburn brought me a small wooden cup of the foul-tasting creamy liquid, which I downed instantly, the pain already beginning to numb and my eyelids feeling heavier by the second.

"How badly am I injured?", I asked somewhat anxiously, though Qyburn gave me a nice genial grandfatherly smile that managed to set me at ease despite myself, "Most of your ribs are fractured and you'll have a nasty scar for the rest of your life, though thankfully no lung was punctured and you should be completely recovered within three moons…". Nevermore interrupted Qyburn from the corner of the room loudly cawing, "_Corn! Corn! Corn!_"

I drifted off to sleep with an out-of-place placid smile on my face as Qyburn began to let loose a stream of profanity that only a Parisian taxi driver back on earth would've been proud of and I laughed internally at the last part of his tirade when Nevermore lightly packed his outstretched palm that was offering him food and finally drifted back to sleep, or I suppose back to my lessons.

**Omake (Semi-Canon)**

"Davos!", Stannis barked at him sharply, his head suddenly whipping back up from the map they were both studying.

"Erm, yes milord?", his back straightened, this was usually what happened when Stannis got an idea that would drastically change their lives, usually for the better mind you, but it invariably meant a lot of hard work.

"It just occurred to me that your House has a Valyrian Steel weapon…", Stannis began leadingly and Davos was struggling to follow the line of logic that Lord Stannis was obviously trying to get him to see, so he just settled for agreeing with him, "Erm, yes, that it does milord."

"But…?", Lord Stannis began his sentence making a gesture that indicating Davos should finish it for him, unfortunately he still couldn't see where he was going with this and shrugged to indicate as much, Stannis just sighed exasperatedly.

"But you still don't have any House Words Ser Davos!", Lord Stannis finished his thought and Ser Davos understood, but he really couldn't care less about such things, he had thought about it of course, but the best ideas he got were just rip-offs of the other House Words, "Ours is the Onion", comes to mind as something that occurred to him when he was in his cups. Though by the looks of things Stannis was deathly serious about this so it wouldn't do for him to jape about it.

"I'm afraid I never gave it much thought, do you have any suggestions milord?", he asked, and Stannis smiled broadly, like a child who got the pleasure of naming the family's new dog, which in a way was exactly what he was doing.

"How about, '_A True Friend, A Worthy Foe_'?"

Davos blinked; those were actually very good House Words.

**A/N**

**Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know it was just Stannis this time, but seeing as the Westerosi Interlude is coming in the next chapter it wouldn't have really made sense to add more to it needlessly and the meeting between Stannis and Bloodraven is really all that mattered, well that and Stannis ascertaining the basic fallout of his fight against Euron, but the more specific stuff he found on the Silence will be expounded upon in later chapters. As for the Omake I had fun writing it, but something like this never really fit in to the rest of the story normally, but I did want to give House Seaworth words and the ones I thought of seemed appropriate enough. At any rate, please leave a review if you're feeling generous.**


	11. Chapter X

**Jon I**

He felt the ache of his old bones as he sat down on the chair reserved for the Hand of the King in the small council chambers. He keenly felt his hips crack as he did so as well, and he was equally as aware of his increasing resemblance to the bird which his family had taken as their sigil, what with his bald head, large hooked nose and the dark bags under his eyes born from the fact that he considered himself to be one of the two competent and trustworthy members of the small council, meaning that he refused to delegate any work apart from that under the purview of the Master of Coin, he was never very good at counting coppers after all and he would be damned if he let that up-jumped eunuch and that grasping cunt Paxter have any more power in Robert's court than absolutely necessary.

Speaking of eunuchs…

"Well, out with-it man!", Robert barked at Varys, "you never request my presence here unless there's a fire I need to put out, so what is it?!"

Jon would've sighed, but he had long given up on tempering his foster son's rudeness, a rudeness that was exacerbated by his increasingly more hedonistic habits.

"No, it's about your brother your Grace…", Varys tittered nervously as the fists and jaws of everyone on the small council, saving himself and Littlefinger, tightened in nervous anticipation and in some cases, anger.

Though for vastly different reasons. Paxter Redwyne, even not having experienced Lord Stannis' magic firsthand was as terrified of him as any Reachman rightfully should be given the effects the heathen had wrought upon their army.

Renly Baratheon resented his elder brother who he had looked up to as a hero when he was a boy, for "_abandoning me in this shithole and leaving me to be raised by Robert of all people!_", a fact that was not completely off-base as Jon would reluctantly admit.

Varys and Pycelle resented the man for only gods know what and Robert was simply so jealous of his younger brother that it drove him mad with rage every time he was reminded of the fact that while he was here stuck in the capital bored out of his mind, Stannis was out there living his life in the exact way he had seen fit as a child and all because Robert indirectly allowed it, not to mention he was probably still worth about the fact that Stannis had technically stolen the best ship in the fleet, something which had also won him Jon's ire for a time, but at this point he really couldn't muster the energy to care.

"And what about him?", The Master of Laws drawled sarcastically, "Did he go past Asshai and discover a new continent, or let me guess, did he fight a Kraken with his bare fists?"

Varys raised a manicured hand up to his clean shaven pate and rubbed his chin as if he was in deep thought, he then said, "Well, I suppose one could say he fought a Kraken, though certainly not with his bare fists and no, apparently the furthest he got was Asshai.", he punctuated the sentence with a breezy shrug as the jaws of all the members of the small council flopped open like gaping fish. The Spider now had everyone's complete undivided attention, it was not uncommon for the Small Council to receive news of Stannis' comings and goings, Robert requested the information after all, but already he was being called the next Lomas Longstrider and both Baratheon brothers were tired of hearing the exploits of someone who was apparently much happier than the two of them put together.

"Start talking, now.", Robert said quietly, though his desire to punch a hole in the marble table in sheer anger came through loud and clear.

The Eunuch smiled demurely and began, "Well, he didn't actually fight a Kraken, but rather he killed Euron Greyjoy after ridding the Basilisk Isles of their infestation of Pirates.", he finished matter-of-factly.

"How?!", Robert spat out looking green with envy, Renly mimicking his expression if not his words while Jon just sighed with exasperation and Petyr rolled his eyes.

"He sacked one of the four great slaver cities gaining a large army of Unsullied and a sizeable fleet in the process, he then sailed his fleet to the Basilisk Isles and took them.", Varys tittered though in a tone that could've suggested he was speaking about crop yields in a demesne rather than the impossible achievement he just uttered.

"What?", Jon rubbed at his temples tiredly to stave of the headache he just knew was coming.

"Yes, you see...", Varys then went on to explain how Stannis tricked the slavers by purchasing their Unsullied army with fake dragon eggs and then forced his newly acquired army to kill their former masters thereby taking the city of Astapor. Afterwards he marched his army to the neighboring city of Yunkai, where the nobles paid him off with a fleet. Grand Maester Pycelle occasionally adding his doddering yet very welcome historical context to the unbelievability of this fact.

Jon scowled, the tactics Stannis used were dishonorable in the extreme, but he technically was doing the work of the Seven in freeing the slaves, he'd have to consult the High Septon on this, though he was already dreading what would undoubtedly be a long and tedious evening on the discussion of theology and ethics, not to mention his holiness pestering him on the repayment of the loans that the faith had granted the new Baratheon dynasty. He sighed morosely and even Littlefinger looked slightly concerned now, though Paxter Redwyne was sweating buckets.

Robert took several deep breaths to calm himself down after the conversation finished, "Lord Baelish, I shall be making extensive use of your establishment today, I trust that will not be a problem?", he said with hints of steel that indicated that what had once lived under those many layers of fat was once a great warrior, he shook his head at his foster son's antics.

"None at all your grace", Baelish answered with a small yet slightly predatory smile.

"Good", Robert answered simply, striding out of the room, Ser Meryn and Ser Barristan following in step behind him, not saying a word. Before he exited, he said, "Oh and a Tourney by next week!"

Jon sighed again; he'd been doing that a lot recently he noticed.

**Arianne I**

She strode out of the sea feeling very refreshed indeed, it had been a hot few days in Sunspear and she was glad she had taken the time to relax with her cousin Tyene by swimming in the noticeably cooler waters, though that was the exact opposite of what she thought when her bare feet touched the scalding sand as she was forced to flinch back and fall on her ass due to its unexpected heat and the pain it caused on her souls.

A roar of laughter peeled from behind her and she turned to see her cousin merrily jaunting out of the sea though taking much more quick steps than her, minimizing the time each foot was placed on the ground. She got up by herself and tried not to grimace in order to avoid further embarrassment, which of course made Tyene, _the bitch_, laugh all the harder. She glared at her cousin, though it lacked any real heat as it usually did, so it was taken in stride as it usually was.

One of the many guards who had escorted both of them obediently made to hand her a towel and some leather slippers which she accepted graciously, though she put on the first with much more haste.

While she was drying herself off, she noticed that the guard was staring, being a recently flowered maid of five and ten she was fairly used to this, but not from the guards in Sunspear, they were some of the few men who feared drawing her father's ire, which puzzled Arianne, even after she had told him she lost her Maidenhead to Daemon Sand, her father had done absolutely nothing at all, it puzzled and angered her in equal measure to no end.

It was with that last thought that it clicked into place, the underclothes she wore for her swim had obviously gotten wet and must've been hugging her body tightly enough to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, she giggled internally and winked salaciously at the guard who blushed and then almost immediately flinched back as if struck.

Arianne pursed her lips in frustration, the guard was a fairly fine specimen of his gender and if she had fucked him it would've probably been less of an embarrassment than trying to marry her off to Walder '_Fucking_' Frey of all people, not that her father would've understood, he seemed hells-bent on removing any joy she could extract from her life since she learnt he meant for Quentyn to usurp her rightful place as the heir.

"Done drying yourself off yet _princess_?", Tyene said with a smirk, she used her proper title, but when she said it, it sounded more like an insult.

"Oh you wound me Tyene", she said handing the towel back to the guard who was intent on attentively examining the floor rather than her and her cousin, Arianne placed a hand over her heart in mock woundedness, "All that because you're jealous of my better hair, what is the world coming to?", she asked rhetorically.

Tyene raised one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows and snorted, "Me?! Jealous? As I remember it when we were children…"

Arianne glared at her for real and Tyene wisely stopped talking, though the mischievous spark they were both known for never left her eyes. She sighed internally, her childhood was not fun to remember, she had always been an ugly child looking more like an angry little boy than her role-model Princess Nymeria, whereas her cousins bore a striking resemblance to the many statues of her likeness which could be found all over Dorne.

She remembered the many times she had prayed through frustrated tears and clenched teeth in the Sept for the Seven to grant her the same boons they had apparently seen fit to grant her cousins from birth, but well, she thought staring at her noticeable assets, "_it's not like they didn't deliver when I asked…_"

"Come, father and uncle will be expecting us for lunch and it's unwise to test their patience for something so trivial.", she said and Tyene nodded obediently as they made their way through the winding streets of Sunspear to reach the Palace, their guards falling in line behind them.

Sunspear was not one of the largest cities in Westeros, but its architecture was definitely the most unique, it had elements of the cobblestone houses that were built by the First Men, but now they were only noticeable as the foundations of the Andal and Rhoynar housing that followed.

The Maester at the palace had compared it to an onion in that Sunspear also had many different layers. It must also be said, according to her uncle Oberyn at least, that the Shadow City, that is the city that was almost always under the shadow of the tall palace towers, shared a remarkably uncanny resemblance to the free cities, what with its numerous temples, markets and of course cutthroats which is why the guards following them were necessary.

Once she'd arrived home she decided to exchange her soaked garments for a dress cut in the typical style of the reach, that is to say with an exposed midriff, but it was made of the typical orange dyed silk that was ubiquitous for her house, "_mayhaps because it contrasts well with our skin._", she thought while she was putting it on.

"You're late", her father drawled conversationally when she'd arrived at the table, she just shrugged with complete equanimity, her father had completely lost her respect around a year ago and hadn't done much to regain it since, not to mention seeing him struggling to lift the wineglass to his lips because of the gout didn't exactly instill fear, though some would argue the looming form of Areo Hotah who constantly stood behind him compensated for this.

The food was simple Dornish fare, a lot of fish, root-vegetables and obviously a lot of spice with those vegetables to mitigate the fact that they were naturally very bland, not to mention quite a lot of wine going around though her father never allowed her to have more than two glasses despite the fact that her uncle allowed his daughters to have as many _bottles_ as they damn well liked so long as they dealt with their own hangovers after the fact.

Overall it was a very average meal for the House Nymerios Martell, or at least it began as such, though in the middle of the meal a hurried messenger approached, the heads of everyone sitting at the table except for the Norvoshi Monk, turned to face him with undisguised curiosity, after all the conversation had become quite stale and even her uncle's rude jokes could only keep it afloat for so long, so a distraction was welcome.

"News from Essos my prince", the man said with the characteristic accent of those who had never truly abandoned Mother Rhoyne and if her father had felt annoyed at the interruption it disappeared as quickly as it came.

She and her cousins exchanged a look that held undisguised curiosity and Obara silently asked her father what could be so important, but he withheld the information with a sly smile and a quick shake of the head, that was enough for Arianne, it indicated that it was something important and that her Uncle knew about too.

"Anything interesting father?", she asked feigning pleasantness, but her father ignored her handing the now opened later over to her Uncle with a muttered, "_tell me what you make of this_".

The expressions her uncle's face went through while he read the letter only served to exacerbate everyone's curiosity. His countenance went from mildly curious, to impressed, to completely incredulous in a span of a few seconds.

He put down the letter and then shrugged, turning to her father and saying, "It's not impossible, extremely unlikely mind you, but not completely impossible.", he finally said with the same roguish grin he always wore, but there was an underlying tenseness in the man like she had never seen before.

"And if it did happen?", her father asked simply, all the heads at the table leaning in to see if they could gleam what this conversation was about.

"Then he might be a threat and yet he might not be.", he said more to himself than to Doran, "What do _you_ make of this?", he then asked his brother, who pursed his lips and said, "I need time to think about this."

"_Of course, you do_", Arianne thought sourly, "_Whatever the situation you always do nothing and call it thinking._"

Doran put down the letter on the table and resumed eating, though everyone was still far to curious about the events that had just transpired to follow the Prince's example.

"Is there anything we should know?", Nym said hesitantly, which seemed to convince her father to volunteer the information.

With a put-upon sigh he began, "Should? No, definitely not.", but then continued at the crestfallen expressions of everyone including her, "But can, yes, indeed. The letter related some curious events concerning the King's brother in Essos."

She furrowed her brow in thought, the Maester had just begun her lessons on Robert's Rebellion, but even then she knew the name of Stannis Baratheon quite well indeed, the man had broken the Siege of Storm's End with magic after all, taken the fortress of Dragonstone, had apparently publicly condemned the rape and murder of her Aunt and her children (much to the consternation of his elder brother) and last she'd heard of him had been from a few merchants in the Shadow City who claimed he had stolen a ship from the Royal Fleet and sailed away to Essos, but that was years ago now.

She pursed her lips and gave voice to the aforementioned thoughts.

"You're right mostly.", her uncle began as everyone on the table including her father began to listen with rapt attention.

"Though I believe that the man would argue he didn't steal anything because at the time he was still Master of Ships and he therefore technically gave the ship away to himself before he was unofficially banished", a few Sand Snakes and herself laughed uproariously at this, "_I'll have to ask Maester Egan about him._", she thought imagining what the man looked like.

"But", her uncle interrupted their laughter with a hint of steel in his voice she had rarely heard before, "- he didn't just steal it as a pleasure cruise and take a trip to the Free Cities like I did, he apparently went as far as Asshai by the Shadow", her mind began to evoke images of the great adventurous prince she now knew the man to be and… _she liked what she saw._

Despite her rather lude thoughts her Uncle continued to speak, "When he came back he sacked the city of Astapor, freed the slaves therein, gained an army of Unsullied, blackmailed Yunkai to get a fleet, sailed that fleet to Sothoryos and killed the most dangerous man apart from Black Harren to ever come out of the Iron Islands, any questions?"

_What!? _"What?!", everyone except her father asked immediately. Her Uncle laughed and recounted the tale in greater detail than he had initially, the image she had composed of the man did not falter at all, in fact the details seemed to strengthen it.

When her uncle had taken her and Tyene to the tower on the outskirts of the city to show them how to best milk a snake for its venom she had laid on a rock and imagined that a brave adventurous knight had come to whisk her away from her drab life and would ravish her in that same tower, thinking about Stannis, the pleasurable visions of that knight were quickly replaced by that of a gallant Prince who had travelled even further than her Uncle and likely had the muscles and… _experience_ to show for it.

When she finally retired to sleep for the day, the dream that greeted was very familiar, she was inside a stable and Daemon Sand was removing his smallclothes, only this time it wasn't the Bastard of Godsgrace, but a Baratheon with long dark hair, bright blue eyes and a physique that could be best described as heroic that greeted her.

**Balon I**

His daughter walked in while he was staring into the fire, the Storm God was out today with a vengeance, so he stayed near the large fireplace of his keep for warmth in these months.

"Father, I bring news from Lordsport.", she said with her usual arrogant tone of voice, Balon merely raised an eyebrow asking her to continue.

"The merchants say Uncle Euron has died.", she said simply and Balon felt his heart skip a beat.

"How?", he asked simply, not letting his voice transmit the palpable excitement which he felt.

"Killed, by Stannis Baratheon", she replied with total equanimity, she hadn't really met her Uncle after all, well she had but she was too young to remember him.

'_Thank the bloody Drowned God_', he thought letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"I see", he said stiffly his Asha just stared at him with a raised eyebrow, "You may go", he finished, and she bowed stiffly and did just that.

**A/N**

**Hey guys hope you enjoyed what was essentially the Westeros Interlude, please leave a review if you're feeling generous and next time get ready for Stannis' meeting with Melisandre, the founding of a Sellsword company and our favorite Mannis getting a new pet. See you guys next time, same bat-time, same bat-channel and as always thank you for your kind words, you are what makes this and other stories worth writing. And by the way, I did settle for Arianne after re-reading her chapters after all ;)**

**Some of your concerns and reviews addressed in the order I found them in:**

**The reason I decided to make Bloodraven an ally is because he'd be a really shitty enemy, his Greensight is essentially useless now that Stannis has royally fucked up the timeline and his only option is to Warg and take over the body of someone important, but chances are they'll notice something is wrong very quickly and if he does that Bloodraven loses his powers (unless he does it with Bran, but as Bran he'll have little power when compared to Stannis).**

**He's not saying that it would be better if all future Kings were Greenseers, he's saying it would be better if all future Kings were him, an idea that isn't without merit as he's a fairly skilled ruler and he can essentially live forever if he plays his cards right.**

**I'm considering another ASOIAF SI, but not as Tywin's son, rather as Roose Bolton during Robert's Rebellion, but I'm going to finish this one before I start it.**

**Yeah, Arya's Faceless Men arc is down the shitter now, but that was going to happen anyway because Stannis was going to prevent the Red Wedding.**

**Fuck you too**

**No, he's not dumb enough to try his luck in that Lovecraftian nightmare of a city.**

**The amount of Thanos quotes will be perfectly balanced, as everything should be.**

**Arianne isn't a real 'Princess' so to speak, in the books it's basically outright stated that she's a rebellious teenager who'll have sex with anyone to get something she want or just to piss of her dad, even if it's to her own detriment in the future (though she isn't smart enough to realize this.) In the books she states that her ideal man is a strong adventurous knight and she was even in love with her Uncle at one point, meaning Stannis is kind of her ideal guy.**


	12. Chapter XI

_**Zeno I**_

_He violently scratched at the skin of his left arm and looked around his chambers in a fit of withdrawal induced paranoia when a shadowy figure flickered to life in the corner of his eye. Zeno was a Warlock of Qarth and boasted the characteristic bald head and blue lips to show for it, meaning that he was addicted to Shade of the Evening, a milky blue drink that tasted like everything one could possibly taste and awakened the magical potential of the one drinking it, the problem was that it wasn't permanent, meaning that to use magic the Warlocks had to keep on drinking it, not a problem in it of itself, the blue Mountain Flowers, Silver Dust and other ingredients were readily found all over Essos, no, the problem was that it was more addictive than even Milk of the Poppy and when deprived of it the withdrawal symptoms could be __maddening__. _

_He along with his now deceased colleague was kidnapped by a Pirate going by the name of Euron Greyjoy a few moons ago and he was currently experiencing every single withdrawal symptom there was as he hadn't been given the chance to make more Shade of the Evening. _

_Well, that was not strictly speaking true, he had been given the opportunity, but the Pirate wanted to watch him make it and thereby learn the secret that his order had guarded since before the fall of the other Qartheen Cities. And he would be damned to the deepest pits of whatever hell he was destined for if he gave it up to someone clearly undeserving._

_"__Though I haven't been his captive for three moons…__", he mused idly as he continued to sweat profusely, but not due to the humid climate of Sothoryos, but rather because of an involuntary reaction caused once again by his withdrawal._

_He didn't know how long he lay there in the fetal position on the cot that his 'liberators' had provided for him, but he did realize that he the door to the room was unlocked that it was no longer daytime, and Stannis Baratheon walked in._

_No, walked was the wrong word, a word so ordinary would imply that the man himself was ordinary._

_It would be more accurate to say that the door opened, and Stannis Baratheon __filled__ the room, because that's what he did. One moment the room was empty and then the next to Zeno's drug deprived mind it was suddenly filled by a crushing presence that caused his subconscious to scream 'danger' at him over and over._

_"It seems you have awoken.", the man said a tone of voice so gravelly and emotionless he may as well have been discussing the weather, "May I inquire as to the state of your health?", he hedged not unkindly._

_Zeno found himself subconsciously moving to answer him, even though it was his guild's policy to stay completely silent in the face of capture, he found himself not having the will to do so in the state he was in._

_"I am recuperating adequately, many thanks for your help Lord Baratheon.", he answered though his voice was hoarse from disuse and he doubted the man had an easy time understanding his accented common._

_The aforementioned Lord pursed his lips in thought then said, "You appear to be rather worse for wear, would Shade of the Evening alleviate your symptoms?"_

_For a moment he wanted to scream '__Yes, give me some now!__', but the part of him that was responsible for logic sent his mind tumbling for a moment, "__Does this mean he has some?__", he asked himself, "__Or is this a ploy to get me to show him how to make it?__"_

_"It would.", he said neutrally hoping that his disheveled countenance gave nothing away, "Why, do you have some?"_

_Stannis gave him a friendly smile, though as his brain was catching up to reality, he began to see the smile for what it was, "No, I'm afraid I've run out and I've forgotten how to make it, could you refresh my memory?"_

_He was probably hoping that they symptoms had gotten bad enough for him to give up the secret, his precious secret and the only thing that was keeping alive now he realized in a sudden moment of clarity. Zeno glared at his captor in defiance as his answer._

_The man sighed rubbing his forehead in irritation and Zeno could clearly see the large scar on the large man's chest through the thin white tunic he was wearing. "I wanted to be nice you know?", he muttered more to himself than to him, "But if you won't talk when I'm being nice, I'll stop being nice."_

_The next thing he knew Stannis snapped his fingers and a few Unsullied rushed into the room, grabbing him by the shoulders, pinning him down on his bed and tying his hands to its frame as he struggled, though due to his state he may as well have been offering no resistance._

_He continued to glare, there was no need to use his voice against the young man, Shade of the Evening also had the side effect of dulling pain, well, not quite dulling it but it allowed one's mind to disconnect from what the body was feeling at will which meant that Warlocks were immune to torture as the Crow's Eye had found out with his colleague._

_Stannis pursed his lips in a tight frown and proceeded to collect a bucket of water and a rag from his men, "__Is he planning to wash me?__", Zeno thought completely bewildered, Stannis placed the rag inside the bucket of water letting it soak up the fluid and he then began to press the damp rag over Zeno's nose and mouth._

Zeno gagged and gasped, air failing to reach his lungs. He tried to claw at his face to pull off the damp rag that sat upon it to no avail as the restraints were fastened tightly. His legs began to jerk and kick uselessly as his body realized he was drowning, a feeling he couldn't disconnect from using Shade of the Evening, "_I can't breathe_!", he heard himself scream through the rag, though he was sure he didn't say it by choice.

He didn't remember how long the rag was on his face for, but he definitely remembered when it was removed, he had never felt so relieved in his life. Zeno opened his mouth and began gasping for air, greedily gulping down as much of it as possible as the headache from his withdrawal blended together with the one from lack of air, causing his skull to pound away introducing him to a new definition of a headache.

"So, how does one make Shade of the Evening?", Stannis asked once again nonplussed. Zeno glared and the experience began all over again, until Stannis Baratheon and the four Unsullied with him in the room became the only non-Warlocks to know the secret behind Shade of the Evening.

**Davos V**

"Raise the anchor and someone get the bloody fools on the '_Lord Steffon_' to make way!", he bellowed, though the smile he sported never left his face.

This was his element, not fighting in narrow streets, freeing and training slaves or trying to keep this rabble of misfits together, but sailing on the open ocean… He sighed wistfully, now this was what he was born to do.

'_The Black Bessie_', the very same ship which had seen them through thick and thin all through their journeys in Westeros and Essos left their makeshift port on Talon Isle for what would hopefully be the last time, seeing as Lord Stannis was basically completely recovered and all of the slaves who could possibly be recruited into the Sellsword company that Stannis was forming had already been recruited, there was nothing left to do in the Basilisk Isles, still that didn't mean there was nothing left to see in Sothoryos and they were planning one last expedition.

In the meantime, Ser Aurane was commanded to go to Volantis and purchase banners, tents, weapons and armor for the Company that Lord Stannis had yet to name, not to mention store their considerable amount of newly acquired wealth in the Iron Bank.

Qyburn had insisted they stop on every single island in that archipelago and Stannis wholeheartedly agreed if only to purge the pirates from the isles and bloody the new troops, though even someone as idealistic as Stannis knew the former wouldn't last.

Regardless, the most interesting place they visited so far was definitely the Isle of Toads, an island that had once been home to an ancient civilization to hear both Stannis and Qyburn tell it. It seemed to Davos that they were in fact right as during their expeditions they often found ruined stone buildings that no one lived in and the few natives that they espied had fishlike features including webbed hands and toes.

Though all of that paled in comparison to the humongous statue to an ancient Toad God they had found in a ruined temple. The statue was made out of the same black stone as the buildings in Asshai by the Shadow and the base of the titular Hightower, and was as such, for lack of a better word, very creepy. Qyburn had wanted to study it more, but Sharp Spear had warned that the natives were beginning to surround them, so Stannis commanded that they leave as quickly as possible.

Now they were headed to the old Ghiscari city of Gogossos on Basilisk Point, despite Qyburn's insistence that they visit the cursed city of Yeen, Stannis had put an end to that idea almost immediately citing the fact that cannibals permeated the surrounding area and that multiple civilizations had disappeared there instantly without a trace.

Gogossos wasn't that much better though, having originally been a Ghiscari colony it was abandoned after the third Ghiscari-Valyrian War and eventually used as a Penal Colony by the Valyrians after the Freehold completely took over the Empire. It wasn't an ordinary penal colony, however, it was used to run inhumane experiments in the creation of Hybrids by forcing slave women to fuck animals, whether it worked or not was unknown, but if anyone could find out it was Qyburn, a thought that made Davos grimace outwardly despite the fact that he counted the man as a friend after all these years of travelling together.

Once they'd arrived at the city Davos found it very underwhelming, Stannis immediately ordered the Unsullied to travel in groups of three at the very least and explore the ruins, placing a particular emphasis on books and scrolls that were still legible and ancient weapons and armor that they found. All in all, the ruins were a mix of buildings that could be found in the cities in Slaver's Bay and the Free Cities albeit destroyed and reclaimed by nature, but one of scariest things that Davos had seen in his life had happened there, he still remembered with such clarity that it could've happened yesterday.

Stannis, Qyburn and he had taken a group of Unsullied deeper into the jungle, a fool's task on Basilisk Point, Davos had to admit in hindsight as one of the aforementioned creatures that to Davos' surprise were actually slightly bigger than horses swept upon them from the huge treetops landing atop one of the Unsullied and attempting to tear out his neck with its sharp fangs.

His comrades had moved to skewer the creature with their spears, but Stannis held up a hand to stop them, which they did immediately, he then took out a vial of a blue liquid and downed it in one gulp as if trying to drink as much wine as possible, he sat on the ground with a heavy plop the Unsullied barely blocking the beast's attacks with his large shield and bracers before Stannis' eyes rolled into the back of his head and the Basilisk began thrashing around wildly.

"_A Warg!?_", Qyburn exclaimed breathlessly and the members of the expedition who were followers of the Seven tensed ever so slightly as the Basilisk continued to thrash around, though the unfortunate Unsullied now boasted a scar from naval to collarbone.

The Basilisk eventually calmed down and Stannis' eyes went back to normal, he turned back to the men and stared at them with a puzzled expression since they were now suddenly wary of him. Davos decided to diffuse the tension, "You know milord, the last two times you've used magic were much more impressive."

A few men let out great guffawing laughs at this and Stannis himself glared good-naturedly. It reminded the men that they had seen Stannis perform feats that far surpassed this one and that just because there were horror stories about Wargs back home didn't necessarily mean that they had to fear the man who had seen them through the length and breadth of the world.

**Richard I**

Ser Richard Horpe was one of the many Stormlander Knights who had joined Lord Stannis Baratheon's newly formed Sellsword Company, '_The Forebears_', he had oft hungered for adventure when he was younger and unlike the Golden Company which was a home for exiles and the unwanted the Forebears seemed to be a place where one could earn honor in combat without the stigma of the Blackfyre Rebellions, the fact that Lord Stannis was very generous and timely when it came to wages naturally also helped in his decision, however, the main reason was that he thought he'd have it easy, what with being a trained Knight and all.

"_How very naïve that was…_", he mused idly as he rolled around on his bed in a futile attempt to try and mitigate the snoring of his bunkmates which was beginning to sound more and more like the War Horn that their commanders used to indicate they should charge.

He thought back to the brutal training that they had been put through at the hands of Lord Stannis, at first he had hated the man, as he'd used constant insults and beatings to try and instill a sense of discipline in his unit and the Seven help you if you had the stones to question an order!

Lord Stannis was a hard commander, that much was true, constantly demanding that his men work as hard as they possibly could, but a hypocrite the Baratheon Prince was not, he often worked just as hard and all of the training that he put his men through he participated in himself and if you asked politely and in a timely manner he would be more than happy to explain any order he gave, but if you questioned an order when it was meant to be carried out you would find yourself running what the men had dubbed "The Seventh Hell".

Stannis didn't view insubordination as an insult to himself, but rather as a disgrace for the entire unit that could only be wiped away through collective punishment and he treated it as such by forcing all of the men that comprised the unit to run between a long line of Unsullied while these beat them with wooden sticks and they had to do this as many times as Stannis thought necessary.

But the man was also like a father to them, a very stern, violent and arguably abusive father, but a father, nonetheless. He had the paymaster, Ser Aurane, make sure that every single soldier had enough water at least two hot-meals a day and every man was given the necessary equipment to fight when they signed on to the company.

Ser Richard had worn better plate armor than the lamellar uniforms that every Forebear was obligated to wear, but the uniforms were almost as good, consisting of small castle-forged steel plates with small holes held together by strings, the armor was heavy enough to offer a fairly good defense and weight distribution, but was also lighter and more maneuverable than even half-plate. By the time his training was finished he could dissolve an entire breast- and back-plate of the armor and put it back together in minutes.

"_An army marches more than it fights_", a saying Lord Stannis had oft used during their training and he now knew it to be very true, "_the faster army gets more food, water and the high ground,_ _the slower one usually loses._" It made sense, true enough, but that meant that Ser Richard of House Horpe, son of a lord, had to learn to pitch a tent, do laundry, cook and clean, because '_The Forebears_' lacked camp followers since they would slow them down.

The former slaves that also made up the company were evidently much better at this than he or any other lordlings were, but they never made fun of them since bullying their fellow soldiers was harshly beaten out of them during their training and every other man regardless of their origins was treated with respect.

Ser Aurane listened to their complaints, often disseminated through the anonymous 'Suggestion Boxes' that were placed all around the camps, but if one couldn't write he would be more than happy to discuss it face-to-face, though he usually dismissed them with a gruff, yet not unkind '_that's too expensive_'.

Truth be told the only thing he particularly hated were the runs, the gods-dammed runs. Lord Stannis had conclusively proven to everyone that a marching man in full-plate armor, carrying all the weapons and equipment that he would bring on campaign could get further than a man carrying the same on horseback within a certain amount of time. Meaning that even members of the company's cavalry like Ser Richard had to participate in the same runs as the Unsullied and the other members of the infantry and by the end of the brutal training in which he collapsed and threw up his food more times than he could count he was finally capable of running for 12 hours straight while carrying the entirety of his equipment.

He felt stronger, a better soldier and a better knight, drinking less wine as Lord Stannis only allowed the men who were on duty to drink wine so well-watered it wasn't worthy of the name made him more alert and he enjoyed the stability of the stable routines that the company demanded of him, not to mention the fact that they had utterly decimated every single opponent they had gone up against helped a little in that respect as well.

**Melisandre II**

Making her way through the camp of the '_Forebears_' was an interesting experience, she had of course seen multiple army camps throughout the course of her long life and living in Essos for most of it automatically meant that at least sixty-percent of those were sell-swords. These sell-swords, however, were a less rowdy bunch than the usual. She could see men setting up fortifications, running around, but it seemed organized, for lack of a better word, something rarely seen among these kinds of greedy warriors.

She continued making her way to what one of the guards had told her was the commanders' tent, "_that was another oddity_", she thought. Mercenaries may be greedy, but what they were not was stupid and naïve, and yet she had just walked up to the front gates and asked where she could find Stannis Baratheon, and after asking for her name they had pointed her straight to his location, even an admittedly militarily ignorant person like herself could tell this wasn't normal, but the only explanation was that either the man had recognized her, she was expected or her reputation preceded her, all of which were ridiculous assumptions for wildly different reasons…

Her musings were suddenly interrupted as a few steps from the tent she heard the distant, but distinctive clashing of steel on steel, and something about it called her presence to it, but whether it was her lord or simply her instincts she could not say.

Behind what was presumably the Commander's tent she could see a contingent of men sparring against each other with sparring swords, which probably weighed more than their normal counterparts, other soldiers were running back and forth, back and forth, while others did sit ups and push-ups, it all looked so regimented to her, so organized. But then again, had she expected anything less from Azor Ahai?

And speaking of the man, there he was precisely as he had appeared in her vision, blue lips and all only he wasn't wearing plate armor, but rather simple pants and a loose linen shirt. He began stretching and twisting before donning a padded gambeson and accepting a sword from one of his men.

A knight stepped up with his sword drawn and without warning the two men's blades were in motion, silvery arc's in the pre-dawn light, the high ring of clashing steel indicating that the blades had met.

Melisandre watched as the Prince and the knight sparred, never giving each other an inch, their blades whirling and meeting almost too fast for her to follow. On and on the sparing session went, with no sign of either man tiring, despite herself she became almost mesmerized by the clash, her focus intent on just the Prince and the knight. The proverbial spell was broken when suddenly the Prince's blade slipped past the knight's guard to rest on his shoulder at his neck.

The knight laughed at this and the two men clasped arms before the next man stepped up, a Forebear officer and once again he and the Prince sparred, and once again the same result, Prince Stannis winning. He fought four further men, two of them managing to beat him before Azor Ahai called for what were probably his squires and watched the two boys spar; he would point out flaws in the boys' techniques and sometimes step in to demonstrate their mistakes.

The Prince was not the only one sparring, the other knights and Officers were also sparring but she had no eyes for them, only for him. The sheer presence that the man gave off was like a force of nature, proud, unflappable, strong and so utterly devoted to imposing his will upon everything he encountered.

It was only after he had completed his training that he deigned to cast his gaze upon her, and what flashed in his eyes could've been recognition, but once again she thought the notion absurd and put it down to a trick of the light, he walked up to her and with his by now infamous low growl and asked with a slightly accented volantine low-Valyrian: "Lady Melisandre, I'd be honored if you would join me in my tent."

She stiffened quite perceptibly, and it was all she could do to mask her surprise and nod dumbly, following him to his tent, every fiber of her being trying to figure out how he could possibly know about her, and failing to come up with a rational answer.

Walking into his tent, the first thing she noticed was that it was much more austere than what she had come to expect from men from the Sunset Kingdoms. It had a few comforts like a hammock as well as a bed and a small shelf displaying odds and ends from different parts of Essos, "_probably trophies_", she mused and realized that while she was gawking the Prince had already taken a seat behind his large desk, but hadn't gestured for her to do the same, instead opting for ogling her, not that she minded, she had after all worn the dress for precisely that reason.

She noticed that he only took one cursory look and then his gaze didn't linger at all, Melisandre actually blinked in surprise. She didn't know whether to be pleased or offended; was she not pretty enough?

A staring contest between the two of them soon began, a contest of indominable wills, Stannis admittedly was blessed with an icy fortitude she lacked, but she had the gift of experience, so in the end he broke and spoke first.

"Tell me, why Melisandre?", he said seemingly genuinely curious breaking the pervasive silence that had dominated the tent a few scant moments ago.

"Excuse me?", The Red Priestess asked, genuinely confused by the question.

"I mean why that name specifically; I know it sounds more mysterious and magical than Melony, but why Melisandre?", he said with total equanimity though his eyes blazed with a mischief which would be more at home in the eyes of a small child.

Her mind stopped _dead_. Not at the fact that he had used a name the she hadn't revealed since she had been sold to the Red Temple, no not because of that, her mind stopped because for the first time in a _very_ long time she was in the presence of someone who she now knew for a fact was magnitudes more dangerous than her. She stiffened involuntarily and began to subtly palm one of the many alchemical powders she kept tucked in her sleeves just in case, though apparently Stannis noticed because he frowned, stood up and began to walk towards her, though he raised his hands to indicate that he was not planning anything malicious.

When he entered her personal space, she concentrated her energy around the magical choker around her neck in order to let loose a large torrent of flame, which would likely engulf the tent, but what happened next stopped her.

"I'm sorry", the words completely shattered the fearful atmosphere which had built up and it was then that she looked at the Prince's face again, the frown still marred it, but it was not one of contempt or disapproval, but _pity_.

"Sorry for what?", she kept her face as a mask of stone and injected some due offense into her tone.

"I saw it Melony", he said quietly, but loud enough for her to hear, "Everything you went through in Asshai…", he trailed off and it was all she could do to stop the tears falling as the memories of her early childhood that she had ruthlessly repressed for her own good began to resurface unbidden.

He lunged at her then and she prepared to attack, though the myriad of emotions she was experiencing precluded her use of more advanced Shadowbinding, but to her immense surprise he didn't harm her like most who knew the full scope of what she had done throughout her long life, he hugged her tightly and in what could've passed for a soothing voice muttered: "It's going to be alright.", she lost her composure9 after that and tears mixed with heart-wrenching sobs were let go freely, though they were thankfully muffled as she was pressed against the tunic that the Baratheon was wearing.

She didn't know how long she was held by him simply trying to make peace with a past she thought she'd buried in the deepest recesses of her mind a long time ago, with the man she was now completely convinced was Azor Ahai running one hand through her hair and using the other to pat her back soothingly, but she did know that when her crying ended she did the first thing that felt right.

She stood on the tips her toes given that Azor Ahai was much taller than her and captured his lips in a passionate kiss. The man stiffened involuntarily and it was then she realized that given all he apparently knew about her that he knew about her real looks as well, she started to pull back and the tears were beginning to return, but to her immense surprise and delight Stannis relaxed his posture and smashed his lips against hers with a heartfelt passion she hadn't felt since, well, ever.

**A/N**

**Hey guys hope you enjoyed this chapter, most of it was just exposition so to summarize, Stannis now has Shade of the Evening, he now has a pet Basilisk and Bloodraven taught him how to Warg and use other assorted magics, he formed his Sellsword Company and it's called '**_**The Forebears**_**'(props to whoever gets the reference btw.) and he finally met Melisandre face-to-face, I know a lot of you guys were looking forward to that so I hope I didn't disappoint (lewds will be coming in the next chapter for the pervs who wanted to see that) and as always please leave a review!**

**Some of your concerns addressed in the order I found them:**

**Joffrey SIs are a little overdone in my opinion and they're a little 'easy' too since you start off with a lot of power, I'm actually thinking of doing either a Roose Bolton SI or a Littlefinger Pseudo-SI, but I'm going to finish this story first.**

**How is every sword fighting style the same?**

**Yeah, basically the Witch-King of Angmar vs. The Mannis**

**Sincerely,**

**Digsjin**


	13. Chapter XII

**Davos VI**

"_Shieldwall_", Stannis muttered simply, barely loud enough for Davos to hear through the loud riotous galloping of the enemy horses that were fast approaching their ranks.

"Shieldwall, hold the damn line!", he pantomimed using his best sailor's voice, almost immediately the Unsullied and newly trained infantry units sprang into action, stabbing their odd oval shields into the ground and holding their pikes in the odd manner that Stannis taught them to.

To their credit, the newer recruits didn't flinch at all when the riders approached them, some of the smarter horses and riders stopped a ways before hitting their lines, but their less fortunate counterparts were quickly introduced to the business end of the Forebears' Pikes, to devastating effect.

"_Those that didn't die because of the caltrops at any rate._", Davos thought grimly, and he could even hear the loud whining of the horses that were felled through the use of the ingenious yet at the same time innocuous contraption Stannis had thought of a few moons ago and truly for a bunch of nails stuck together the thing was so devastating to cavalry that the First Men could've probably beat back the Andals if they had but a few of them.

His attention wandered back to the man himself as he surveyed the battlefield with the calm steely gaze he used when examining everything else, Stannis' eyes briefly locked onto the blue forked banner of their enemy and narrowed, "_The Windblown_", he thought with no small amount of trepidation.

It wasn't that he didn't believe that their company was up to the task of facing them, but '_The Windblown_' and therefore '_The Tattered Prince_', were not enemies one took on lightly. They were the second most feared Sellsword Company in the Disputed Lands, the first being the titular Golden Company due to their experience in using war elephants and the fact that they could call upon very experienced Westerosi commanders.

But the reputation that the Windblown had gathered wasn't to be scoffed at either and even Stannis had paused briefly and considered the pros and cons of keeping to their contract with Lys, their main problem being that while '_The Forebears_' probably had the best infantry in the world they were woefully lacking in the cavalry department, the opposite being the case for their opponents.

Eventually Stannis' honor as a commander and perhaps more importantly as a Baratheon won out over his admittedly skewed sense of self-preservation and he had to compensate for what would otherwise be an insurmountable disadvantage with scouts that any enemy would be hard pressed to counter.

Speaking of which, a sight which Davos thought he'd never get used to began to take place, Stannis' eyes rolled into the back of his skull as the Ravens perched upon his shoulders rapidly began to take flight in the direction of their opponents, his Basilisk mount compensating for his body going slack and not letting him fall by adjusting its posture.

It was a few minutes before consciousness returned to Stannis, but when it did a feral grin which was somehow made even more pants-shittingly terrifying due to the man's blue colored lips began to take shape on his face.

"It seems the Company of the Rose got held up by Aurane's units, ready the flares and signal the cavalry behind the hills, we charge as soon as they're able.", Stannis said unable to mask the anticipation that was clearly building in his voice.

Davos nodded and gestured for his own squire, a young but capable lad by the name of Tytos Hill to light the aforementioned flare. It was only a few moments later that a loud screech could be heard throughout the field as what Stannis called a Rocket rose up into the air by its own power and exploded in the evening sky coloring it a darker cherry red, signaling the cavalry to begin their advance.

Once the sound of thundering hooves started to be heard Stannis turned to him, flicking the visor of his helmet down to cover his face and said, "Come on Ser Davos, it wouldn't do for us both to sit back and scratch our assess while the rest of our Knights charge at them."

As soon as the last syllable left his mouth his Basilisk raced ahead with a speed that Davos would've thought impossible due to its size and somewhat stocky legs. Reluctantly Davos spurred his own Destrier on to go as fast as possible, brandishing a steel-tipped lance he had bought in Volantis and he aimed for the throat of one of the enemy riders while taking a deep breath to steel himself and mitigate the very slight shaking of his hand born from his inexperience.

Hastily loosed arrows raced over the charge of the Forebears' cavalry, for the most part missing their mark and the next thing Davos knew he had smashed into the opponent's cavalry with a loud crash.

He wasn't an experienced rider by any metric, but the training Stannis had had him undergo did pay of enough for him to skewer the poor bastard he'd had in his sights, though it came with a cost as he noticed that his opponent's lance had also hit its mark, not on him though Seven forbid, but on his very, very expensive destrier how crashed into the dirt.

Davos managed to roll away and right himself, clenching his teeth in pain all the while. He drew his sword just in time to block the attack of what seemed to be a very angry Tyroshi Sellsword.

The clang of their two blades was barely loud enough to be heard through the chaos of the rest of the battlefield, but to Davos each strike sounded like the loudest strike of thunder he'd ever experienced.

"_Left, Up, Parry, Riposte_", he silently thought mimicking the very actions, and thankful to his now deceased eldest that he'd insisted on Davos learning the sword after the second time Pirates had attempted to board their ship.

The little duel seemed to go on for hours until his opponent overextended himself slightly and Davos ruthlessly took advantage of the opportunity by swinging his Longsword down towards the man's chest, eliciting a scream of pain from the poor sod as a veritable geyser of blood was spewed forth from the remains of his boiled leather chest-plate.

Davos raised his blade again, this time aiming for the head, no matter how dishonorable it felt to take the life of a man who could no longer defend himself, Davos knew it was for the best.

While he was of the mind it would be better to live on, even as a cripple, people who could only make a decent living fighting tended to disagree.

He brought it down and a sickening squelch was heard as the man's head separated from his shoulders.

Davos looked up, seeing that he was one of the only Forebears who was still fighting, their enemies had apparently sounded a retreat, which Davos' mind had tuned out during his duel.

Soon Stannis made his way to him, the warhorses that were nearby became skittish when the scent of the Basilisk reached them and threatened to bolt, but their training won out over their instincts and they stayed firm.

"Still among the living, eh Ser Davos, have you been relieved of your Destrier?", Stannis asked a tired smile plastered on his face, presumably glad to be done with the campaigning.

"Aye milord", he said and turned his attention to his defeated opponent, "Though this cunt's been relieved of his head."

Stannis snorted as his smile widened slightly; Davos had found that while the man could come across as joyless rigid bore that his lord did in fact have a sense of humor, it was just so dark that most people mistook his japes for threats or otherwise found them to be in poor taste, but by now Davos had gotten used to it.

"Come Ser Davos, we should head back to camp, I find myself in need of prayer.", he said seemingly without preamble, but the wide smile from earlier still plastered on his face.

Davos just rolled his eyes knowing full well what his lord's _prayer_ consisted of, though if he noticed it and was annoyed, he gave no indication.

**Melisandre III**

Her whole body quivered in a sweaty mire; her hips danced to match the rhythm of the Prince's thrusts. His pillar speedily cavorting through her sensitive cunny accompanied by a plethora of meaningless grunts; her words failed her. Her mind stumbled, desperately attempting to reconcile two conflicting thoughts. "_I was meant to be the one doing the seducing, but I'm…_", a part of her mind whispered. This cognitive dissonance aided and abetted in deriving an amplified sense of sickening ecstasy, even as her lips parted, and a moan escaped traitorously from them, one wrung from her in the same vain a skilled minstrel would wring a sound from his harp.

_"It shouldn't feel this good_ –

_By R'hollor it shouldn't feel this good.", __she thought to herself._

Staring into the bright blue eyes of the young man she realized that a smirk played across his face, a slight one, but a smirk nonetheless, indignation manifested as a further reddening of her cheeks displaying itself on her face, but he either didn't notice or didn't care as the next thing he did was flip her over until her face was entirely covered by the pillows and proceeded to thrust himself deeper into her, running his hands around the whole of her sweat slicked body in a way that made her shudder. She had never experienced anything like this, oh, her maidenhead was long gone, she had begun her service to the Lord of Light as a Temple Whore and some of her Shadow-Binding required her to lay with a man, which she had obviously done multiple times in the span of 400 years, but never before had she done so with a man so singularly focused on bringing _her_ pleasure.

Besides, was the young man she was with not a credit to his gender? Young, comely, royalty, a great warrior, her lord's chosen, the list seemed to go on and on, but she was supposed to have the power, not him, she was a couple of centuries his senior for R'hollor's sake! And this Baratheon was making her blush and squeal like a maid of six and ten, she tried to take back the initiative, but her continuously gyrating hips disagreed with that notion as did her wheezed breaths. Her cascading red hair slicked with sweat and soft whimpers assisted in the manifestation of that disagreement. Large, rough hands kneed her firm breasts like a skilled summer-islander masseur, and her back curved itself like a bow fully drawn. Her vision became unclear and spots began to dance along the tent's crimson canopy, her own voice singing a melody she was unaware she knew. Sensations of pleasure bombarded her like an unfortunate soldier caught in a hailstorm of arrows. Her clenched teeth could no longer hold back the burst dam of treacherous desire.

She _moaned_.

Her legs danced inelegantly to the sound her voice and the evidence of her accomplished arousal. Azor Ahai, The Great Other, R'hollor, Herself and even Stannis Baratheon were disregarded as she was thrust deeper and deeper into the chasm of pleasure. It was when she could no longer stave off her release that the Baratheon's hands clamped themselves around her throat pushing her metal choker against the soft flesh of her neck, her breath hitched and she flailed around uselessly, it was only then that she noticed how much bigger than her he was, easily pinning her down with the use of his body weight alone, she tried to scream, but her voice wouldn't come, without being able to chant in High-Valyrian she could not access most of her magic and for the first time in a long time Melisandre felt _helpless_ and even _afraid_.

It was then that the waves of pleasure steadily returned, the Prince hadn't ceased his thrusting, far from it in fact, and as if it had been previously timed Stannis released the vice-like grip on her throat as soon as she _released_. She felt pleasure the likes of which she never had before, a high-pitched shriek born from the combined sensations of her much sought-after intake of breath, her release and the Prince's seed filling her clenched womanhood that almost refused to let go.

The sound of her own heavy breathing blended with that of the falling raindrops outside. Her body lay, exhausted, unwillingly and disloyally refusing to move. The reason for her exhaustion turned her over to face him, bright blue eyes staring at her now disheveled form, as an unmistakable grin born from satisfaction began to play across his lips, he adjusted the bed sheets to cover both of them and laid down right next to her, placing a hand around her hips to bring her against him, he then brushed the sweaty hair away from her face and gently kissed her forehead.

A hastily, yet not unkindly muttered, "Goodnight.", was the last coherent word she heard before falling asleep to the steady rhythm of her lover's heartbeat.

**Richard II**

"So there the old cunt was right, the 'Tattered Prince' astride on his horse wearing his colorful rags which made him look more like a jester than a warrior.", he began weaving the tale of the beginning of the battle to enthrall the whores of the Lyseni brothel he had decided to frequent tonight.

Ser Richard Horpe was experienced enough to tell that unlike their normally false smiles and platitudes they were actually interested in this particular story, the 'Forbears' had after all been welcomed in Lys like heroes after defeating both the Windblown and the Company of the Rose in the disputed lands and by virtue of being one of the outriders who accompanied Lord Stannis to treat with the enemy commanders before the battle began he was currently shamelessly abusing his story in order to get a better price from the Courtesans.

"And he said: '_we have you outnumbered Sunset Prince, we've been fighting here since before you've been playing with your prick and we'll be fighting here long after you're dead, we won't lose to a boy that's greener than grass compared to us_', as you can imagine the Prince took exception to that.", when he said that a lot of the courtesans who were currently unoccupied and even some of the patrons who were very much occupied leaned in closer to hear what he had to say.

"Now, as his reputation might suggest Lord Stannis is a man of few words, would you like to hear what he had to say?", he asked with am mischievous glint in his eyes.

Some of them nodded and his eyes quickly drifted to the woman of questionable virtue who looked the most enthralled by his little story, as he said with an exaggerated put-upon sigh, "I'm afraid my memory's a little fuzzy."

Most of the patrons leaned away at that, but all of the whores understood quickly enough and the one he was looking at quickly moved towards him and huskily whispered; "I'm sure I could jog your memory my lord, how does 15 silver pieces less sound?".

Richard's eyebrows rose in surprise as a smile formed on his face, let it never be said that he wasn't easily bribable.

"Right", he continued with a cough to fix everyone's attention back on him, "So, Lord Stannis just says: '_You threaten me with an army of tired old men?_'", some of the whores laughed politely at that, but he could tell they were disappointed and expected a great showing of wit, well he wasn't quite done.

"The Commander of the Company of the Rose doesn't take kindly to that at all, so he says: '_We have more archers than you've got men, if you fight us our arrows will blot out the sun!_', Lord Stannis just looks at him like a rat on the street, you know, barely worthy of his contempt and says: '_Then we shall fight in the shade._'

Now they looked pretty satisfied and Richard was looking forward to a pleasurable evening on a discount before they sailed off to the disputed lands once again.

**A/N**

**Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter, next up will be the fight with the Dothraki and the beginning of the actual series. As always please leave a review if you're feeling generous (and even if you're not please do so as well), reviews are what keeps me motivated as a writer so the more of them I see the quicker I'll write the next chapter. See you guys next time, same bat-time, same bat-channel.**

**Some of your concerns addressed in the order I found them in:**

**Yes, 'Forebears' is an Elder Scrolls reference, more specifically it's an Elder Scrolls: Redguard reference, so congrats to those who got that, treat yourselves to an imaginary internet cookie.**

**I personally like the mix of SI and non-SI PoV for these stories, In my opinion it serves to keep them fresh and the SI can be used as a bit of comic relief since he can bring in a new perspective and me 'detached' in a way that other characters can't.**

**Yeah, same. The only SI I can think of where the main character learns magic is SI by the Shadow on Sufficient Velocity, but it hasn't updated in years and magic seems to be the main focus. I mean, if you were suddenly in a world with magic, I doubt you'd completely ignore it.**

**In the books it's not confirmed that she's a granny, but even if she was I'd still do her if she looked like Carice van Houten.**

**I've briefly thought about doing a Jaime Lannister SI, but honestly it seems a little too easy. The only challenging thing would be to write his interactions with the Lannister family, but it would get pretty boring after a while, an SI into our favorite Dwarf on the other hand… Now that has potential.**

**Roose Bolton, 'Make the North Great Again'.**


	14. Chapter XIII

**Stannis VI**

Fumbling with the large medieval keys I clicked my tongue in annoyance, the lack of modern conveniences I used to take for granted were nothing to scoff at in this world and the large bronze keys that weighed more than what I usually carried on my person back in the US, not to mention the hefty and clunky-as-hell iron locks that took me at least five minutes to unlock each time I tried exemplified this perfectly. And I swear, the Unsullied standing guard by the door were internally laughing their asses off at the sight of their commander cursing under his breath like a sailor and being thwarted by a lock of all things.

Finally, I managed to dig in the key deep enough and the thick iron door opened with an audible '_clack_', and I swiftly made my way inside _Qyburn's Lab_ as I affectionately called it, though the man himself referred to it as his workshop. Still, no matter what one calls it, the small manse I had purchased for the old necromancer in Lys was nothing if not a place where wonders were born, the guy had already puzzled out how to make a Chinese Repeating Crossbow from my drunken chicken-scrawl diagrams on parchment, I was not an engineering student in any sense of the word, but to my delight the man was very, very good at thinking outside the box and wasn't deterred whenever something didn't work, well usually at least.

The inside of the Manse itself wouldn't have looked out of place in Renaissance Florence, in fact the small dingy rooms it was made up of were almost universally filled to the brim with books, diagrams, tools and yes to my perpetual discomfort autopsied corpses. It was basically what I imagined Leonardo Da Vinci's workshop would've looked like (corpses and all, yes, look it up).

I strode in with all the confidence of a man who owned the place, which technically I did I suppose, but the hodge-podge collection of expelled acolytes, hedge-wizards, apothecaries and engineers we had picked up were only nominally loyal to me and very much more loyal to Qyburn, but the man would remain on my side for as long as I gave him more of my money and chemistry knowledge, so I was pretty sure the psychopath wouldn't double-cross me since I basically had an unlimited supply of both.

A few of the employees, at least those that weren't distracted doing something more important, awkwardly bowed and mumbled a greeting as I passed them by on the way to Qyburn's solar and much like Emperor Palpatine on the escalator my politeness was quickly strained by the sheer amount of people I had to greet back, so eventually I just settled for a quick mumbled '_hello_' without pausing my walk to the solar.

Once I reached it I rapped on the door a couple of times, but the chainless Maester didn't answer, I knew for a fact he was inside, so I just shrugged and let myself in, as a fellow researcher I could relate to being focused on a project to the exclusion of everything else going on in one's vicinity, still didn't mean I was going to respect the old cunt's privacy though.

The sight that greeted me as I walked in was quite frankly so bizarre that I had to do a _quadruple_-take to make sure I saw what I thought I was seeing. Qyburn, the quite possibly necrophilic love-child of Leonardo da Vinci and Lavrenty Beria had his brows furrowed in concentration trying to solve what looked like a wooden Rubik's Cube.

It was all I could do not to laugh, so instead I calmly walked towards his desk and pulled up a chair, the sound of the wooden chair being awkwardly dragged across the marble floor finally startled the man out of his reverie. He dropped the Rubik's Cube though thankfully the fragile looking toy didn't break, but the man himself nearly flipped back in his chair in surprise, the old codger's face was a brilliant crimson for a moment, but to his credit he quickly regained his composure and said: "Apologies my lord, I was quite focused and I'm afraid you startled me."

"Not at all", I said, a genial smile plastered on my face, "I should be the one apologizing since I barged in here, but I was quite curious to see what you were working on that had you so absorbed."

"Ah yes, of course", he said with an enthusiastic smile handing me the small cube, "brilliant little thing I picked up from a merchant back when we were in Yi-Ti, I'd forgotten all about it and I'm only just now starting to figure out how to solve that blasted thing!"

My smile was razor thin, though I was pretty sure my eyes twinkled as in a few fluid motions I rapidly solved the cube that was giving him so much trouble right before his eyes, a little party trick I picked up in college, but never in my wildest dreams did I think it would come in handy here.

"How?!", he breathed more curious and awestruck than anything else.

"Start with the middle squares first, then work your way out from there and you should get it with a little more practice"; I replied breezily.

He almost took the cube back from me then and there to begin trying with my advice, but he remembered himself in time and said, "As eager as I am to take your advice to heart, I hardly think you visited me to help with this particular quandary my lord."

"That I did not", I said with a small smile, "I actually came for a progress report on how all the projects were going."

He smiled with a twinkle in his eye, "Well your hunches with the copper nails proved fruitful and we're already having the bulk of our fleet refitted with them."

I nodded at him to continue, not having our fleet constantly scraped due to barnacles would pay dividends in the future but it wasn't immediately useful.

"Sadly, our experiments in safely transporting wildfire have proved less that satisfactory, but we have managed to load it in wagons that can be rolled downhill with a fair degree of accuracy, anything more and it tends to be more dangerous to the people using it than the intended target.", I nodded with a frown that indicated my displeasure, but also the fact that I expected the outcome.

"Though everything else has thus far born fruit my lord, your 'Printing Presses' are currently being leased to the Rogare Scribe Company and are turning a healthy profit, most of the ships are now mounted with scorpions and the 'Dragon Lances' that can shoot out 'Baratheon Fire' work quite well."

I smiled and thanked him for his hard work to which he just said it was his genuine pleasure.

"There is one last thing my lord.", he said hesitantly but he could hardly contain his now bubbling excitement which was weird when seen on such a frail-looking old man, nevertheless I nodded along for him to continue.

He pulled out a small pouch from one of the drawers on his desk, and from the pouch he grasped a dark looking powder and quickly threw it in the brazier, a small 'boom' could be heard echoing throughout the room.

Both of our grins after this could charitably be described as shit-eating, I roped a large arm over the man's shoulders and said, "Qyburn, you, you are my number one guy!"

"What?!", he looked palpably nervous, probably because of my maniacal grin and the fact that I sounded less like the Joker and more like '_All work and no play make Stannis a dull boy_'.

**Robert I**

"Robert, get up!", the harshly barked words jolted the King of the Seven Kingdoms from his blissful wine-induced slumber. He forced his exhaustion down in order to thump the head of the cunt who had the bright idea to disturb him the day after his father in all except name had suddenly kicked the bucket.

He rubbed at his eyes to help him with his endeavor, and when his eyesight returned to him, they nearly leapt out of their sockets.

"Stannis!?", he breathed more disbelieving than anything else and sure enough his dour cheerless brother stood leaning against a marble pillar before his comfortable feather bed looking mildly disapproving at him, '_as he always did'_, noted Robert.

He was clad in a very tight dark doublet with a rearing silver stag as the clasp that held it together and managed to accentuate his lithe physique, grey cotton breeches and tall dark leather boots complemented his utilitarian look. His short hair was slicked back in a way that looked unnatural to Robert and he had an almost elegant close-cropped beard, the thing that stood out the most about him however were his dark blue lips, Robert was suddenly very on guard.

The apparition that Robert was now not entirely convinced was his younger brother nodded curtly and said, "In the flesh."

"How are you here?", Robert asked cautiously rising from his bed.

"I'm not", Not-Stannis said with a small smile that would've been completely uncharacteristic of his younger brother.

"I must be going as mad as Aerys", he muttered to himself, though the apparition had clearly heard him.

"If it's any consolation-", he began, "you're not quite that bad, nevertheless I wouldn't say you're doing well."

"Clearly", Robert said drily, "Otherwise I wouldn't be speaking with a ghost from my past."

The figure laughed a small laugh and Robert was now convinced it wasn't his younger brother as he fumbled for a chair or another blunt object, he could use to bash the figure's head in.

"Why are you here?", he asked to stall for time.

"To deliver a warning.", Not-Stannis said with a shrug.

"A warning", Robert repeated incredulously, "What would my brother want to warn be about, hells, why would he want to warn me about anything?"

"About the fact that everything shall fall apart if the Quiet Wolf should be summoned to King's Landing, as for the why, well let's call it a sense of duty I've inherited from a better man than me.", the last words were spoken grudgingly as if the figure had a hard time believing what he'd said.

By the time Robert had found a silver fruit plate that would be suitable for his purposes, Not-Stannis had completely vanished from where he was standing just a few moments before.

"As mad as Aerys", Robert repeated as he shook his head a few times and drank as much wine as he could straight from the pitcher, before lying on his bead and falling asleep again, thoughts of madness, little-brothers, Ned and cryptic warnings consigned to oblivion, being replaced by those of Jon Arryn, Lyanna and the rapist's death.

**Salladhor I**

Salladhor Saan, renowned Lyseni Pirate plopped down on his lavishly furnished captain's chair with an audible sigh. He usually relished the rare moments he had to himself in his cabin, since they usually involved a few whores or the counting of loot, but right now the lavishly dressed man had much to consider, to ruminate on and to plan for and no matter the outcome of his decisions it was unlikely that they boded well for his future.

This was all due to one simple overheard rumor that had made its way to the Stepstones a moon ago, a rumor who's veracity was questionable at best to the other pirates that prowled the waters, but a rumor which Salla had confirmed to be quite true due to his friendship with one of the people involved, the thing that was causing him and indeed most of his colleagues undo stress could be summed up in a simple sentence, '_Stannis' fleet makes for the Stepstones_'.

A lot of pirates and slavers had already abandoned these waters in favor of a more 'accommodating' pastures in the form of the Basilisk Isles. Salladhor snorted in contempt at the thought of these idiots, the prince had after all decimated the previous unlawful occupants of those islands and utterly destroyed whatever infrastructure was in place for them and even if he hadn't, the thought of the diseases one could get over there sent literal shivers up his spine. Davos had recounted that a lot of the Unsullied Stannis had brought to the Isles had fallen prey to diseases that could quite possibly be considered as the most painful ways to die in existence, something Salla categorically wished to avoid.

'_All that trouble for slim pickings, madness, pure madness._', thought Salla with an audible chuckle as he lazily rolled a gold dragon along his knuckles a habit which annoyed others when he gambled with them, but it helped him concentrate.

Still, that got him no closer to the answer to the ultimate question, '_What the fuck should I do?_', the answer to that hinged entirely upon a completely different question, namely why Stannis and by extension '_The Forebears_' suddenly decided to drop everything in the Disputed Lands, where one had to admit they were doing quite well for themselves, and drop everything for a comparatively unprofitable campaign in the Stepstones.

"_Could a Free City be paying them?_', Salla thought and while the stray thought had merit it was quite unlikely seeing as all the cities aggressive enough for such an action profited from the slave trade, the only candidate for such an adventurous investment would be Braavos, they certainly had the gold to burn, but then again pirates here knew better than to raid braavosi Cogs and if they had wanted to clear the Stepstones they would've hired the Golden Company to do it a long time ago.

Salla also knew for a fact it wasn't Stannis' dislike for the slave trade that was to blame, he had after all spoken at length about it with the man during his brief sojourn in the Jade Sea and he had said that while he absolutely detested it, he knew there was very little he could actually do about it so he wouldn't even bother. He also knew that Stannis disliked pirates, but unlike his colleagues he knew that wasn't the reason he attacked the Basilisk Isles, the reason was Euron Greyjoy because of something the man did that Salla hadn't managed to wring out of the Baratheon, but everything else was just collateral in a way.

All of these thoughts left him with more unanswered question than he had before, he continued to roll the coin across his knuckles and even occasionally palmed it in a way that to an outside observer would make it seem like it disappeared when a stray unbidden thought made its way through his head until it reached his mouth.

"Stannis seeks revenge against his brother.", Salla had to laugh out loud, not because of the absurdity of the thought, no, the enmity between the two Baratheons was legendary and most everyone who knew Stannis personally had to if albeit grudgingly admit that he'd make a better king than his brother. He laughed because no one else but him had figured it out yet.

'_Some of my sources in the secret city had apparently witnessed Stannis visiting the House of Black and White when he was younger, according to gossip Robert's heirs are arrogant weaklings that hide behind their mother's skirts, the Iron Islands and Dorne simmer in anger, the Stepstones are the perfect place to mount an invasion of the Stormlands and Kings tend to be very generous to those who help them get their crowns_', these thoughts rapidly coalesced and formed into a picture, a very pretty picture if Salla was being honest with himself.

All he'd need provide was a few men and ships and he'd likely be very well rewarded for his efforts. A loud boisterous chuckle escaped his lips at the thought as he had the Cabin boy summon a red-headed whore from the only brothel in Salt Town to attend to him.

He took a large sip of one of his finer Dornish Reds and thought, '_Having working balls as well as brains sure does pay off in my line of work_'.

**A/N**

**Hey guys hope you enjoyed this chapter, as you can see things are heating up now, what with Jon Arryn finally having kicked the bucket, SI!tannis having introduced Gunpowder to Planetos and deciding to use the Stepstones as a base of operations to take the Iron Throne. I decided to forgo the confrontation between '**_**The Forebears**_**' and the Dothraki because I tried writing it a few times and honestly they're so unrealistic they'd just get shafted by superior infantry, archers, fortifications and artillery instantly, not to mention the only credible threat to Stannis would've been Khal Drogo and I wanted to leave his reputation intact for Canon. Some of you are probably wondering why Stannis decided to warn Robert and truth be told it was because I didn't want to have the character seem like to much of an asshole, he doesn't particularly want any of the characters who are generally good people to suffer if he can help it and he did grow closer to his brother in his childhood. Anyways, see you guys next time, same bat-time, same bat-channel and as always please drop a review if you're feeling generous.**

**Some of your concerns addressed in the order I found them in:**

**No, Stannis will not go to Valyria**

**He does want Daenerys to hatch Dragons, he has Euron's Horn and his magic will get a lot stronger once they do hatch.**

**The first one didn't kill him, but more assassins will be sent after him, in the meantime Bloodraven is training Stannis because he convinced him that he's essentially numbered, and that the Mannis is the best chance at stopping the Long Night.**

**Ned Stark did bring his army, but he didn't have to break a siege, I'll probably write a flashback where all the northerners had to do was feed the occupants of Storm's End and help bury the bodies of the Tyrell host, whilst being terrified of Stannis.**

**I took the Star Wars story down.**

**He has Gunpowder now; the Mannis don't need no Dragon.**


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